


Underneath

by Daimhin



Series: Save The Cat [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Peaceful Eos, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Inappropriate Humor, Male Loss of Virginity, Mild Language, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Ignis Scientia/Reader, Sex Dreams, Sex in a Car, Shower Sex, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Slut Shaming, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, but not too slow because fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 239,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daimhin/pseuds/Daimhin
Summary: Ignis makes a choice, you fall apart, and Ravus tries to help despite the distance between you, both physically and emotionally. While growing closer to Ravus than you ever intended, you discover that he’s not actually a prince at all but a stack of contradictions hidden within a trench coat.Here’s a far too long alternate ending for ya boy Ravus.





	1. You're not wrong, Ravus. You're just an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the alternate ending that gave me anxiety. This thing is longer than planned because no one stopped me so I hope you can handle a bunch of extended nonsense. I borrowed one brief scene from the last chapter of One Too Many, but other than that, it totally deviates from the original ending.
> 
> Anyway, have some convoluted drama and angst.

The grand ballroom in the Citadel left you in awe almost immediately. You stopped just beyond the entrance, staring wide eyed at the one of many ostentatious chandeliers that hang from the high ceiling. Mom tugged at your arm, urging you out of the way to make room for more guests to come in.

 _Introduce me to your friends_ , she signed, eyes already roaming the crowds of finely dressed bodies. You knew she wouldn’t let it go; she was prepared to badger you during the entire ball if you didn’t shove her toward Prompto or Gladio or—

Ravus wouldn’t have been your top choice of people to introduce her to, but he was the first one to make an appearance, standing out among the crowds simply due to his blindingly white attire. When he bowed slightly in greeting to Mom, her eyes grew wide. It was like she’d forgotten where you’d spent the last six months. You could only imagine the kinds of things she told people back in your hometown. _My daughter personally knows royalty, both Lucian and foreign_. It might’ve been true, but the circumstances that had brought you and Ravus together, in particular, had been far less than ideal and not something to brag about.

He froze when she touched the Oracle crest on the front of his coat— you’d never get why she thought the unicorn motif so amusing. His expression held none of its usual hardness. He’d yet to say anything, and you wondered if it was because he knew already that he wouldn’t be able to communicate with her all that well. You doubted he knew Lucian Sign Language, if any at all.

When he led her off to dance, you were left in confusion. No explanation for his change in temperament had been offered, and you were maybe a little creeped out by the way he led Mom in smooth circles about the ballroom without his usual scowl.

Free of Mom, the first thought on your mind was Ignis, but your casual gaze about the large place was soon blocked by Ravus’ squire. She took hold of your upper arms, eyes wide and expression insistent.

“Where is Prompto?”

You shrugged her hands off, absentmindedly smoothing down your ball gown. “I dunno if he’s here yet. Why?”

She put her palms together in front of her, a smile coming to her young face. “I am going to kiss him.”

Your brows furrowed, and you studied her. “You just met him like four days ago.”

That didn’t seem to deter her. “Oui, and I know what love is now.” She dropped her hands, turning about slightly in apparent search for your best friend. “And he is blond and pretty, and I will give him my heart.”

What in the Six had you done to deserve this kind of distraction on tonight of all nights?

“You’re not giving him anything,” you said, joining her in the search for Prompto. Maybe you could warn him before she did anything untoward. “He’s too old for you, and he’s with somebody else.” Probably. You weren’t entirely sure what was up with him and Gladio.

Her face lit up. “How old is he? What is his partner like? Are they a woman or a man?”

Again, you looked at her, remembering that Tenebrae had different standards for moral conduct than Lucis in probably every way possible. Polyamory and serious long-standing relationships outside of marriages were extremely common. Of course she wouldn’t bat an eye at Prompto being taken. But she was just a teenager, and Prompto could barely seem to keep his one relationship stable as it was. Stopping her from doing something stupid was as much a favor for her as it was for him.

“Too old for you,” you repeated. Prompto had a hard age limit and a preference. You’d never known him to like anyone younger than himself. Spotting him in the crowds only meters away, you grabbed the squire by the crook of her elbow. “Dude, don’t bother him.”

She pulled out of your grip, frowning at you. “Why not?”

Hadn’t you given her enough reason already? It was a wonder that Ravus could get her to do anything with how blindly stubborn she could be. Then again, you weren’t her prince or employer so why would she ever listen to you? With that in mind, you crossed your arms and made up a lie. If she wasn’t interested in the truth, you had plenty of made up scenarios that could throw her off. “Remember Juicy? That’s his lover. You’d have to best him before Prompto will notice you. That’s how it works in Lucis.” 

She seemed wary of your statement, but luck was on your side. Gladio had approached Prompto, wrapping him in a hug that lifted the younger man from the ground. Suddenly, the squire was shoving her way in the direction _opposite_ Prompto.

You followed, asking, “Where are you going now?” It grew increasingly hard to keep up with her, the nobles standing around not interested in moving a second time to let you pass after allowing her clearance.

“To get my sword,” she called over the music played by the chamber orchestra.

When she disappeared through one of the large exit archways, you sighed and gave up the chase. This was for sure _your_ problem, and you probably needed to tell Prompto or Ravus or both about the squire’s apparent intent to duel Gladio for Prompto’s honor. But this wasn’t at all what you’d planned to do with your time.

You resisted the urge to run your hands down your face, not wanting to ruin your makeup. Tonight, you were going to propose to Ignis, and things were _hopefully_ going to be okay from now on. You checked your bag to make sure you hadn’t, for the second time, lost the pen you’d had made for him. Its white gold surface glinted in the light from the chandelier above. No, you told yourself as you snapped your bag closed again, it was going to be more than okay.

It would be perfect.

—

You found Ignis within an hour of ambling around, but didn’t approach him. Your reasons were twofold. Namely, the woman at his side and the black baby chocobo she held in her arms. So he’d come to the party with his lady friend. That wouldn’t have bothered you, usually, but she had been his rebound when you’d broken up with him.

While you’d been recovering and working to better yourself, he’d made her meals and spent nights with her. The image you’d seen of them sharing a moment outside of his apartment months ago came to mind. You couldn’t fault him for that, but to see them together now, even though they only appeared to be friendly, made you feel sick. Did she _have_ to rest her hand on his arm like that?

Stamping down on your jealousy, you tried to figure out why she had a chocobo with her. It was strange enough that you almost wanted to approach them, but a large wall of finely dressed muscle blocked your path before you could talk yourself into it.

“Juicy,” Gladio greeted with a nod at your attire. “You look nice. My dad really wants to meet you.”

Your eyes widened at this. “He what?”

Gladio threw an arm over your shoulder, the chuckle that came out of him shaking his chest and, by extension, the glass of cider in your hands. It sloshed onto your dress, and you saw this as your opportunity for immediate escape. Shoving an elbow into his side, you pulled away from him and sighed heavily. 

“You made me spill my drink,” you complained, pointing at your chest.

Gladio crossed his arms, amused as ever. “So what? It’s black so nobody will notice.”

You looked around for a place to put down your glass before ultimately shoving it toward him. “I have to go clean up now. Thanks.”

“You’re just being a chicken,” he laughed, loosening his arms to take the glass. You tried not go get offended at the way he looked into the glass, not even being subtle in the way he attempted to smell if it was alcoholic. You’d made leaps in your sobriety, and if your friends kept doubting you, that was _their_ problem.

“Well I can’t seduce your sexy dad if my tits are wet,” you pulled the handkerchief he had in his breast pocket and shoved it inelegantly under the collar of your dress. His only complaint was a sigh as he watched you tug it back out and pat down the chest of your dress next. It really wasn’t that bad, but you needed to stall. You weren’t actually in any state to meet Gladio’s father. There was only one thing on your mind, but obstacles kept popping up, left and right.

You peered around the ballroom, most of it obscured by people you didn’t know. Clarus Amicitia stood near several other Important People not far away. He didn’t seem in any hurry to speak with you like Gladio had suggested. He probably didn’t even know you existed outside of _the girl who shot the duke at the royal wedding_ , and you were totally fine with keeping it that way.

“You gonna ask Iggy anytime soon?” Gladio suddenly asked.

You paused to look up at him. “Huh?”

You’d told Prompto about your plan to propose to Ignis so it wasn’t a stretch to assume he’d told Gladio. Telling Prompto everything was a rule you’d made for yourself after your last disastrous relationship just so you’d have at least one person in Eos who knew the truth of the drama you experienced. Even if it seemed like Prompto didn’t really understand you or your choices most of the time; he appreciated your differences and loved you all the same. Prompto wore his heart on his non-existent sleeve, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t voice his concerns to Gladio if he had any.

Gladio shrugged. “You gonna ask him to dance? He’s been checking you out all night.”

Looking around again, you didn’t see Ignis anywhere. There were too many bodies, and the ballroom was massive. “R-really?” You gazed at Gladio again, trading his handkerchief for your glass. It was a minor relief that he hadn’t been talking about the proposal. You were more comfortable with the least number of people knowing about it as possible. Prompto needed to be given more credit for secret-keeping, apparently.

“We had a really bad date the other day,” you said, staring down at the light sparkling in your drink. “If-If he wants to dance, he should ask.”

Insecurity was nothing new to you, and the past week hadn’t been kind to you as far as time spent with Ignis. A slew of awkward dates and his decision to ignore your _I love you_ message were only offset by the one pleasant afternoon you’d spent with him at Mom’s house. You wished you could’ve proposed then.

Gladio chuckled, and you looked up to see him shaking his head. “Don’t be such a coward, juicy. Talk to him after you meet my dad.”

Oh, right. _That_ was still happening.

“What about his lady friend?” you asked in hopes of distracting Gladio further. With a casual glance past the large man, you’d noticed his dad was walking farther away with his companions. Just a bit longer, he would be out of sight, and you could make a break for it.

“Don’t worry about her,” Gladio told you, waving a hand dismissively. “She’s just here to promote her family business.”

“Oh yeah?” You watched Gladio’s dad disappear into the crowds. Fuck yes.

With a snort, Gladio threw a thumb over his shoulder as if that were the direction Ignis and his friend were in, but they could’ve been anywhere. “Did you see the bird in her arms? Shameless.”

“Well, if he wants to ditch her for me, I wouldn’t complain,” you said quickly, backing away from him. “I’m gonna go refill my cider.”

He shook his head again, making a reach for your shoulder with one of his big hands. You dodged it by backing up farther, running into something solid. Again, your drink spilled on your dress. Fantastic.

Turning around, you frowned down at the new wet spot of your dress. “Sorry about that.”

When a hand took the glass out of yours, your gaze shot upward to meet Ravus as he drank what little was left of your cider. His eyes were narrowed on you, and he lowered the cup slowly, his jaw moving in a way that suggested his tongue was moving about his mouth before he swallowed.

“I’d assumed with your stumbling about that you were imbibing,” he said, offering the glass back to you.

Rather than becoming annoyed at yet another person assuming the worst, you smiled at the smudge of your lipstick that rested on a corner of his mouth. He hadn’t been very careful when testing your drink, and it must have come off the rim of the glass. Rising on your toes, you stilled him with your hands on his cheeks.

“Hold on,” you murmured, close to a laugh. “You’ve got something here.” Wiping off the glossy color —you knew you should’ve stuck with matte— with your thumb, you gave his face a once over to be sure you got rid of it all. You dropped back on the flats of your feet and let go of his face. Ravus remained still, eyes pinned on you. It was intense enough that your smile faded.

Someone cleared their throat, and you started, looking back to see that Gladio was still there. Right. His dad. Returning your attention to Ravus, you widened your eyes and hoped he had a reason, any reason at all, to get you away from the Shield.

“Did you want something?”

Ravus frowned at you. “It’s nearing time for our performance. Would you care to dance first?” He rose his free hand in offer, your empty glass still in his other.

By all appearances, he seemed almost hostile in expression, but you knew this was more than a polite gesture. He’d sooner not dance at all than with anyone he didn’t like. For him to seek you out to ask had you smiling again. Plus, dancing would be a great opportunity to roam the ballroom without being obvious that you were searching for someone. Maybe you’d spot Ignis and get a chance to talk to him before you performed the piece that was meant to impress him.

You nodded, taking the glass from his hand and holding it out to Gladio. “Looks like I can’t make it, juicy. Gotta prince to dance with. Tell your dad to stay hot.”

Gladio didn’t take the cup, crossing his arms again to give you a hard look. “Really? You’re gonna use your new boyfriend to weasel out of it?”

Rolling your eyes, you took Ravus’ hand with your free one and walked toward the nearest table to abandon your glass. He resisted but not very strongly. He felt tense, though, and when you looked back, cup successfully dealt with, he was looking uncomfortably at your hand holding his. His fingers were splayed and loose, not curled over yours. You let go and watched him quickly bring it to his side, curled into a fist. So Ravus was _not_ a hand holder. Noted. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t realized that until now.

—

On the dance floor, hands being on him was suddenly okay. Unlike Prompto, who was uncoordinated but enthusiastic, or Ignis, who had a natural talent, Ravus was practiced, his smooth step born of experience and disciplined measure rather than inherent capability. The only issue was how much longer his legs were than yours. Letting him take the lead was easy, the soft tones of the chamber orchestra surrounding you. With every turn around the dance floor, you kept your gaze peeled for any sign of Ignis.

When he dipped you halfway through the song, you remembered how he’d danced with you at Noct and Luna’s wedding. You’d used him, then, to make Ignis jealous. Now you were merely enjoying the company of a friend, even if his disquieted expression had remained from when you’d touched his face earlier. You laughed into his chest when he drew you back up from the sudden dip. This caused you to step on his foot. He continued smoothly, his arm tightening at the curve of your back as he spun both of you in a slow circle, keeping pace with the music and everyone around you.

“I see you’ve inherited none of your mother’s grace,” he said, peering down at you.

You stopped your search for the time being, eyes locking onto Ravus’. They were as hard and mismatched as ever, bearing down on you without relent. You tilted your chin up reflexively, never wanting to seem weak. He’d instilled that in you after months of living in the manor.

Raising a brow, you asked, “You into my mom? Sorry to disappoint you, but she likes women. Guess you’ll have to settle for being my papa-gâteau.”

His frown deeped. “You intend to continue calling me that?”

“Forever.” You nodded. That answer could mean anything, though. Forever for you and Ravus could mean as early as the end of tonight. You didn’t know if he, once rid of you, would want to keep in touch.

You knew he wasn’t a very friendly person. Luna had told you he would respond to her emails or answer her calls, but never so much a text or an outreach on his part. And she was his sister, one he treated as if she mattered more than almost anyone. You were just a pest. Part of you believed he held the same sort of platonic love you had for him somewhere deep —like _really_ fucking deep— that he’d probably never show.

Proof of that was in how he’d sought you out to dance, how he’d let you call him that dumb pet name for months, and how his expression had finally eased into something neutral as you kept your footing and circled the dance floor with him. Ravus was sort of a fortress, and you were one of the lucky few to know there was something worthwhile hidden beyond his scowling face.

Strands of his hair fell over his eyes as he turned you in a gentle twirl, catching in the light from the chandeliers above. You never understood why he didn’t pull it back more often. He had to be well aware of how severe he already looked, and maybe he knew a bun just might make his already sharp facial features even sharper. The thought made you snort lightly, the image of him with his hair pulled back as tightly as a librarian’s crossing your mind.

You fought the image of him in large glasses with an armload of books, holding back another laugh by pressing your forehead against his chest and looking at your feet.

“You’re in a good mood. Have you already spoken with Scientia?”

His question made your smile fade, and you looked up to shake your head. “No. I’m just… glad you’re here, I guess.”

Ravus only looked at you, continuing to lead without needing to focus on it. His mouth was a straight line, his expression unreadable as always. You didn’t see Ignis anywhere, but you were okay with that for now.

—

An announcement was made at the end of the song. Ravus let go, and you had to take hold of his sleeve to not lose him in the crowds as you made your way to the piano that sat on a dais. You joined him on the bench, excitement filling you at the thought of all your hard work at improving yourself finally coming to fruition in the form of something everyone could experience.

Once you were there, though, and it seemed like every pair of eyes in the entire kingdom were on you, you felt frozen. You’d spent so much time thinking about how Ignis would like it that you hadn’t considered everyone else who’d be listening.

Your hands shook a little, and you leaned toward Ravus to whisper. “I don’t know if I can.”

His eyes searched your face for a moment. “You’ll be fine.”

With a slight shake of your head, you rested your fingers gently against the keys. “This isn’t the same as practicing in front of the squire.”

“I don’t believe this,” he sighed in a soft whisper. He took one of your shaky hands in his, squeezing it gently. “It’s time you turned your weakness for Scientia into a strength.”

You nodded slowly, pulling your hand away with a nervous smile. After a deep breath, you splayed your hands across the keys before setting off the duet. The melody was wistful and lilting, a waltz that had people circling on the dancefloor. You wished you could see if Ignis was dancing, too, but you were satisfied enough by not messing up a single time.

Bowing afterward felt strange while people clapped. Like you were being praised for not doing anything special. You’d truly expected laughter, but now you couldn’t figure out why.

“You were right,” you said softly to Ravus, smiling at people as you nodded in appreciation at their applause. “I was fine.”

“More than fine,” he said just as quietly. “You were wonderful.”

You beamed at him, following him off the dais to get away from the limelight. This jerk totally cared about you. He remained impassive, disappearing into the crowd without another word before you could say that to him.

The chamber orchestra began to play again, your duet their only break for the foreseeable future. Good chance for you to find Ignis and finally ask if he’d be into letting you publicly seduce him.

Only you couldn’t find him anywhere. You’d made the rounds of the ballroom twice, almost running into Amicitia senior and shooting the shit with Mirum over a shared sense of bitchy bitterness aimed at Ignis. There was nothing like being in love with the same person to either tear people apart or bring them together. Together, you’d confirmed that Ignis _and_ his lady friend were gone, and you would’ve been lying if you said you weren’t just a little worried about what that implied.

You were elated to find Noctis and Luna at some point in the night. She squeezed your hands in greeting, and you couldn’t help but be happy that she’d worn the hair pins you’d gifted to her. It had almost seemed a pointless effort to try finding a holiday gift for a _princess_ who probably had everything already.

“Where’s Iggy?” You were done wasting time. You’d grown a little pensive in your hunt, your hopes falling with each hour that passed.

Noct frowned, scratching at his neck a little. The tux he wore fit well, but he’d unbuttoned the suit jacket and loosed the collar of his shirt, the bow tie undone and hanging at his neck. That was proof enough that Ignis had been gone for some time if the prince was getting away with such casual undress.

“His… friend had to leave because of the chocobo she brought. I think he escorted her out.”

At least two hours had passed since you’d last seen him. Just how long did it take to help someone out of the Citadel? It was a massive place, but even you —someone who got lost often— didn’t take so long. You weren’t sure you believed Noct, though you had no reason not to.

Luna squeezed your hands again to regain your attention. “Noctis doesn’t want to dance anymore. Would you care to be my partner?” Her smile was charming and warm, such a strong contrast to her brother.

You nodded, letting her lead you out onto the dance floor. She took the lead, something she seemed to really enjoy if her apparent excitement was anything to go by. You realized halfway through the dance that you should’ve asked Noct if Ignis planned to ever come back. He thought social graces were important so you couldn’t imagine he’d actually ditch the entire ball without good reason.

“What do you think about my brother?”

The question didn’t surprise you, honestly. You’d expected something like that out of her sooner. Her grip was firm but soft on your waist, and you had to hold onto her bare shoulder with more strength than anticipated as she spun you. She giggled at your expression. As it turned out, Luna fucking loved to dance.

“What does your brother think of _me_?”

Her eyes roamed as if in thought. “I don’t know.” The music changed, and she led you into the next song, adjusting the placement of her hands. “He’s told me much but only factual statements. Never his thoughts.”

You’d known they’d talked to each other during your stay in Fenestala Manor. She’d reached out to him, at least. Luna was, though Ravus may never admit, one of his dearest friends. It was nice that someone could care about their family so much, but it was also kind of… sad. Maybe it was just hard for you to relate because you didn’t have siblings of your own.

“What did he say?”

“ _Can you believe what she’s done this week?_ ” She imitated Ravus’ voice, then shook her head with a light laugh. “It was always something new and interesting. I’d never seen him so impassioned.”

“I don’t think that’s the right word.” You shook your head, but she nodded.

“It’s the perfect word.”

That left you quiet for a beat. She would know him better than anyone so she probably caught on to things you wouldn’t think to look for.

Still.

“It’s easy to rile him up once you figure out what bothers him,” you said. “I’m nothing special.”

“I find you fascinating,” she said. “To be such good friends with Noctis and the others and then to move to my home just after my departure, it’s as if we switched places.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way and wondered where she was even taking this line of thought.

She smiled at you and kept going, lifting her arm to turn you in a twirl. “It’s a wonder we care about all the same people but barely know one another.” Resuming your dance, hand grabbing your waist once again, she seemed genuinely excited. “I had a feeling I could trust you with the key to the private library. I’m happy my feeling was correct. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

While that was more than a little nerve wracking —you weren’t exactly quick friends with anyone— you felt much the same. Grinning at her, you slowed to a stop and left the stance, lowering your arms and stepping back.

“Do you remember that dance I showed you at the last ball?” If she meant what she said, she needed to get on your level of uncaring. Prompto had warmed to your nonsense pretty fast while the others had taken it in reluctant stride, especially Ignis.

“The one with the—” She giggled. “The spanking?”

You nodded, but before you could pitch the idea of why dancing like that was a great idea right now, you stalled at the sight of Ravus weaving his way through the dancers toward both of you. Luna followed your gaze and sent a smile to her brother that he didn’t return.

“It’s nearing midnight,” he said, looking from her to you.

Luna rose her brows, smile fading as her mouth parted. She looked at you next, and you suddenly felt like you were supposed to say something. If it was almost midnight and Ignis had yet to return, you weren’t sure you were going to see him for the rest of the evening. The thought hurt. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak with him, let alone propose. Why would he ditch like that without a word to you?

“I’m going to find Noctis.” Luna looked back up to Ravus, voice growing quiet but still clear over the music. “Careful, brother.”

She left you both to stand in the middle of the dancers that continued around you. He tore his eyes from you, looking at the bodies that spun and swayed elegantly. He was a bright, white light in a black sea of Insomnian nobility.

You wanted to ask him to dance, but the countdown to midnight had begun, the music becoming a cacophony set against the shouts by everyone who cared to participate. Someone knocked into your back, shoving you against Ravus. He lifted an arm to ward off anymore people behind you, and the cramped position instantly made you tense.

Too many people, too close.

Your mind became a buzz, overwhelmed by the situation. You could feel the shouts of the guests down to your bones now as if they were screaming right into your ears. Getting a grip on the front of Ravus’ robes, all you could get out was, “I hate this!”

It wasn’t clear if he understood you or not, but he wrapped an arm around your upper back and began to lead you through the ballroom. Almost to the exit, the entire place erupted in cheers. You passed by groups of couples caught in varying stages of kissing on your way out. It felt surreal to witness with your nerves so quickly upended. By the time you were outside the archway and down the large corridor, their jubilations were nothing compared to your heavy breathing.

Your fingers had begun to ache. You let go of his robes to stretch and relax them. He smoothed down the wrinkled fabric but didn’t seem as concerned about it as he was your distress.

“You need to breathe.” He rested a hand on your shoulder unhelpfully.

“W-what do you think I’m— I’m doing?” you gasped, hands tensing again. They curled into fists at your sides. You’d had a couple of panic attacks in Tenebrae, and Ravus had been there for both. He hadn’t gotten better at aiding you though them, though. And it showed.

He let go of your shoulder to force your hands out of their fists, holding them firmly in each of his. That was about all he could do as you calmed yourself. It took only a minute or two for you to be able to think clearly again. It had been so minor, you felt ridiculous for letting the crowds get to you after being fine for most of the night.

Ravus let go of your hands to bring his up to your face. He leaned down slightly, his gaze sharp, and all but demanded, “Have you been drinking?”

You gaped a little. Not at the directness of the question but at the assumption. First testing the cider and now this. Did no one think you were capable of maintaining yourself for one night? You’d thought Ravus, at the very least, would believe in you.

“No,” you snapped, glaring at him.

He searched your face as if looking for the lie, then his hard eyes met yours again. “I’m to believe that suddenly happened for no reason?”

You reached up your hands to grip at his wrists. He was pissing you off. “I can’t control my anxiety.”

“You can’t control any part of yourself.”

What nerve he had to be angry at you for panicking.

“Fuck you,” you bit out, digging your nails into his wrists. “What’s your problem?”

His eyes bore into you for a moment longer, lingering on your mouth. That was enough to make you pause, fingers easing their attack on his wrists, but then, he let go of you and tore out of your grip to back away. He ran a hand through his hair, a heavy sigh leaving him as he paced. When he stopped to look at you, he was frowning. “Forgive my behavior. I’ve been on edge all evening.”

You slumped back, resting against the wall of the corridor. He hadn’t seemed on edge when he’d danced with you. Or when you’d played piano together. Or when he’d told you that you were wonderful.

“Why? Did something happen?” You looked at his chest rather than his face, trying to will away the thoughts of how he’d been so close a moment ago.

He stared at you for a moment, not looking away when you spared a glance up at his face. “Nothing to bother yourself with, ma crevette.”

It was your turn to frown at his pet name for you. This was hardly the time or place for it. “Why not tell me when you know everything about _my_ life?”

He took a step toward you, resting a hand on the wall next to your head. His expression unreadable, he leaned down again, invading your personal space. Funny how he hated holding hands, but apparently _this_ was okay. Was this a contradiction, a double standard, or just plain rude?

“You share your life freely because you need the attention,” he said. “I’ve no reason to share your level of depravity.”

Unsure if this was meant to be insulting, you weren’t impressed. He kept looking down, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your mouth. His brow furrowed more each time as if he were getting annoyed with something.

“I almost thought—” You huffed out a quiet laugh, hoping to dispel whatever discontent was building up between you with a bit of humor. Making him uncomfortable was the least you could do after his attempt to insult you. “I thought you were gonna kiss me.”

His lips parted, brows easing as they arched briefly before he controlled his expression. He was giving you nothing here. Just the low hum of his voice as he finally said, “I only take what is freely offered.” You could smell the champagne on his breath.

That wasn't the response you expected.

It was New Year’s Eve. Nobody would notice, you thought. You absentmindedly licked your lips. How long had it been since you’d been this close to someone? Ravus had never so much as _looked_ at you in any romantic or sexual way. This was equal parts unnerving and thrilling. Before you could tell yourself it was a bad idea, you said, “Go for it.”

It was hardly much of an invitation, but your consent seemed to be enough for him. Your breath caught when he brought his free hand to your chin. It was warm against your skin in the chill air of the palace. Usually, you were the one forcing your chin upward in defiance when it came to this man, but, this time, it was his gentle direction tilting your face up to meet his. He closed the short distance between you in a fluid movement, pressing a kiss to your mouth. It was chaste, a firm but short touch of his lips on yours that ended quickly.

You hadn’t even closed your eyes, it was so brief. You blinked at him as he drew back to look at you. “What?”

He began to pull away, dropping his hand from your chin, but you grabbed the front of his robes, unwilling to let him get away with such a lame move. He let you pull him back toward you, his eyes widening slightly. You swallowed hard, feeling as confused as he appeared.

“Try again.” Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you loosened your grip on his robes. Champagne wasn’t the only thing on his breath. Something sweet. No doubt he’d paid a visit to the desserts more than once. You wanted to know what it tasted like, to see if you could guess what he’d had if you swept your tongue across his.

He dipped his head, his mouth meeting yours again, insistent this time. His lips pulled at yours, sweeping them into a steady rhythm that you met eagerly. The anxiety that had remained from before finally fell away. You felt light, leaning into him. He pressed back, your head hitting the wall behind you with a slight _thump_.

He pulled back to check on you, eyes opening for a second, but you shook your head, hands gripping his shoulders to draw him back in. If he stopped now, you wouldn’t know what he tasted like. If he stopped now, you’d come to your senses.

You parted your lips to lick his, and his reaction was instant. He shifted the hand he had resting against the wall, bending his arm at the elbow and moving closer to invite you in. His free hand came to your nape, deepening the kiss. You had to tilt your head up to meet him with equal fervor. His tongue was slick against yours, almost unpleasant in its errant movements in your mouth.

His hair tickled your cheek, and you smiled into the kiss. Your fingers dug into the fine fabric of his robes, clutching his shoulders tightly to hold him close. The unpracticed movements of his mouth against you was distracting, though. His invasion of your mouth was wanted, but it was as if he didn’t know what _he_ wanted.

Breaking the kiss, you stared up at him, panting lightly. Your taste buds weren’t refined enough to figure out what he’d eaten, and, even more alarming, a burning sensation in your chest bid you to keep kissing him until you figured it out. The possibility of teaching him how to kiss properly definitely made the notion tempting.

He blinked down at you once, twice, then jerked away. Your arms fell to your sides as you watched him step back. Strands of his silvery hair fell into his face, and he brushed them back with a rough motion of his hand. The ballroom continued to emanate the music and celebration, and he sent a serious glance down the corridor toward the noise, squaring his jaw.

“Happy new year,” he said, not looking at you. He brought his robes to right, straightening the collar and rumpled spots on his shoulders that you’d curled your fingers into.

“Yeah,” you breathed, pushing off from the wall to fix yourself as well. “Happy new year, papa—”

“Don’t.”

You looked up from your gown to catch him giving you a cutting frown. You shared the look until you realized he had lipstick all over his mouth. Oh, for fuck’s sake. What had you been thinking? It was hard to take him seriously like that. The absurdity of it did nothing to help your turbulent thoughts.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a napkin you’d taken from a table earlier in the night. It was nice, made of some finely threaded cloth. You’d wanted insurance just in case you spilled another drink, but this was far more important.

“Here.” You offered it to him. “You’ve got… um, on your face, it’s—”

“Thank you,” he snapped, taking it from you with a swipe of his hand.

You scowled at him, feeling your anxiety returning already. “No need to be a dick about it.”

He paused with the napkin over his mouth, eyes cutting to you sharply. He didn’t say anything as he got rid of all traces of your kiss.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you felt a swirling mess of shame and guilt. You’d practically goaded him into kissing you. And for what? Because Ignis had left the party with someone else without so much as looking your way? You were, without a doubt, the worst friend a person could have.

You didn’t have to ask Ravus to know he’d agree based on the scowl he wore.

Hesitation sat in you for a short stretch of time, then you took a step toward the ballroom. When he didn’t seem to care whether you left or not, you muttered an unintelligible apology and walked off as quickly as your legs allowed.

—

Prompto knew something was up. You weren’t being chill about it at all, looking toward the archway you’d come back in through as if Ravus would come after you at any moment. He wouldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t. You sipped on a new glass of cider as you wrestled with the absolute confusion the encounter had left you with. Were you glad he wouldn’t follow or were you disappointed?

And where the _hell_ was Ignis Scientia?

If he’d just approached you or asked you to dance like Gladio had suggested, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this terrible situation in the first place. You ground your teeth nervously between drinks of cider, turning down dances from people you didn’t know. You didn’t think you could stand to be close to someone for the rest of the night.

You staunchly avoided Mom. Like Prompto, she’d immediately know something was wrong. Only worse, she’d want to fix it somehow. Just as you were thinking about looking for her —it was getting rather late now— to head back to your apartment, you were halted by someone saying your name.

Looking up from your empty glass, you watched Ignis walk through nearby guests whose attention had been caught by his loud greeting. Not that it had been much of one. Your name came out of his mouth as if he considered it a swear.

He stopped just short of you, his jaw tight and arms crossed. It wasn’t even remotely the look you’d expected to see on him. Astrals, was he… angry?

“I waited for you.”

You blinked. “What?”

You could see his jaw working, the skin and muscle pulling as he tensed and relaxed. “For months, I waited. I wanted for no one else, and I swore to you.”

Prompto appeared from within the crowd, pushing past people who’d stopped dancing or talking to watch the scene unfold. He looked between you, coming to your side. Gladio wasn’t far behind, equally as confused as everyone involved seemed to be.

“What’s up?” Prompto asked.

You ignored him, shaking your head at Ignis. You didn’t understand why he was bringing that up all of a sudden. The last time you’d spoken to him, he’d wished you a goodnight. He’d kissed your hand and called you charming. Why did he look like he could flay you now without so much as breaking a sweat or shedding a tear?

“I know you did.” You took in his aggressive stance, at the whites of his knuckles and the sharp line of his frown. This didn’t make sense. “I waited for you, too.”

His lip curled in a sardonic smile. “Did you?” You’d only seen that expression once before, during Noct’s wedding, when he’d been furious with you. What could he possibly be upset at you over now? You hadn’t thought your dates were _that_ bad. “Why lie to me all this time?”

Every word that left his mouth created a greater distance between you and your already shaky sense of understanding. Again you shook your head, taking a step toward him this time. You had to fight indignation at his sudden and extreme arrival. “Ignis, I don’t understand.”

“Why do you feign ignorance when I witnessed you both outside—”

A voice cut him off, coming from somewhere within the crowd. “Take care, Scientia, that you don’t say something you will soon regret.”

Tearing your eyes from Ignis, you saw Ravus emerge, given a berth by the large number of people now spectating. What a fucking obnoxious mess, you thought. These things always seemed to happen to you. Why couldn’t just _one_ grand event pass without a dramatic outburst?

Ignis turned to the other man, nearly seething. He didn’t look like himself, the soft edges and kind eyes you were used to had been replaced with a rage you didn’t understand.

You felt Prompto take a strong hold of your arm. Looking over your shoulder at him, you realized you’d begun to walk forward to step between them.

Prompto’s eyes were wide, and he shook his head quickly. “Dude, no.”

You stepped back, returning to his side so he’d let go of your arm. If you couldn’t stop them from arguing, you hoped Gladio or one of the other numerous guards in the room would do it for you.

Ignis uncrossed his arms, his hands flexing at his sides. “Have you no shame?”

“Shame?” Ravus touched the hilt of the sword at his side— wait, what? You didn’t remember him having that earlier. It would’ve made dancing awkward. “We enjoy one another. There’s no shame in that, I fear.”

With a short glance down at the weapon, Ignis squared his shoulders. “You’ve come to fight me.”

Instead of answering, Ravus drew the sword. The sound of it made the onlookers give a wider berth to the two men. You were reeling, palms growing sweaty and heart beginning to race in your chest. Ravus had been serious about dueling Ignis if he rejected you. His threat hadn’t seemed all that real, but now he was leveling his sword directly at Ignis’ nose.

Daggers appeared in Ignis’ hands in a shimmer of magic. You would’ve been impressed in any other situation, but you were absolutely afraid. You needed to stop this from happening somehow. Again, you jerked forward, and again, Prompto stopped you. You glared back at him. He didn’t get it; this was a big misunderstanding. Ignis was upset about something that you still couldn’t find the origin of— but you’d try! And Ravus had all too quickly assumed that Ignis’ anger had been a rejection. You had to clear it up with both men before either of them got hurt.

While you pulled your arm out of his grip, you heard the clash of blades. Oh, shit. This was _bad_. Turning away from Prompto, you froze at the sight of the squire swiping her sword at Gladio, who blocked it with minimal effort. Ravus had lowered his own to watch her come at the Shield as if they were lifelong enemies.

Ignis’ daggers disappeared, and he took a step toward the action with a look at Ravus. “What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

Ravus didn’t answer, striding past him to swing his sword in a quick arch that knocked the squire’s out of her hand. He caught her wrist midair as the sword clanged loudly against the marble floor. He spoke in sharp Tenebraen, ending the fight before it could begin. When she answered, her voice defensive in tone, Ravus looked over his shoulder in your direction. He wasn’t looking at you, but Prompto, who withered slightly under the intense gaze.

“She is underage even by Tenebrae law,” Ravus said with a glare. “Explain yourself.”

Ignis, the only one who could clearly follow the conversation, was looking at Prompto in shock. Gladio’s too huge sword disappeared like Ignis’ weapons had, and he stepped toward Ravus with a glare of his own.

“What are you going on about?” He pointed at the squire whose wide eyes kept going from face to face. “Why’s she attacking me?”

Ravus paid no attention to him, staring Prompto down. The squire pulled at his grip on her wrist, but he didn’t relent. She appeared less enthralled than before, her face a burning red, either from anger or embarrassment. Ravus looked down at her with irritation, another bout of Tenebraen leaving him.

The squire said your name, and that was all it took to put the pieces together. _You_ had caused this. All of it.

Ravus, who hadn’t looked your way since his lips had been melded to yours in the hall, glanced over his shoulder again. His expression was less severe than it had been toward Prompto, but you felt it all the same. You couldn’t have guessed that she’d _actually_ get her sword or that she’d _actually_ get into the ballroom with it. But you shouldn’t have told such a bold lie in the first place.

The crowds surrounding you erupted with chatter, people leaning toward each other to quietly comment or jeer. Prompto seemed to squirm under the judgement, eyes casting downward to avoid everyone else’s. The confusion that had been on his face before had been replaced with a guilty acceptance as if he was prepared to take the fall for whatever was happening.

You touched his arm comfortingly. “Take my mom back to the apartment. I’ll deal with this. It’s my fault.”

He lifted his gaze to look at you. “No, it’s not.”

You frowned at him. “Yes, it is. I was the one who told her to do it.”

“It’s still my fault,” he said, his fingers tangling together in front of him as he grew visibly nervous. “I-I’ll explain later.”

You didn’t like the sound of that, reluctantly letting him go. There was no way you were going to let him take responsibility for your lie. You stepped in front of him, crossing your arms.

“I told her she had to fight Gladio.” Your stare was directed at Ravus, but you felt Ignis and Gladio look at you from where they stood. You flicked your gaze to the squire next. “I was trying to get you to back off. I’m sorry.”

She looked away, dejected, her face growing a deeper red. The fact that you’d unintentionally humiliated her was going to eat at you for a long time, you already knew.

A man you recognized as the Royal Marshal calmly broke his way out of the gathered crowds. “What’s happening over here?”

He stopped near the others, a short distance from you and Prompto. His sharp gaze went from one face to another. Gladio squared his shoulders and Ignis straightened his back, both of them growing stiff in response to his presence as if more self aware.

Ignis spoke first. “A minor altercation, sir.”

“We worked it out,” Gladio was quick to add. “Prince Ravus’ squire just got a bit excited.”

“I see.” Cor Leonis’ attention went to Ravus and the squire whose hand he still held trapped in his grip. “We have training rooms and grounds for you to fight in, your highness.”

Ravus tilted his head to give Ignis a cutting look. “Noted.”

You wanted to speak up at that. Ravus was totally jumping the gun here. _You_ were going to fight them both if they actually clashed. They were fighting about you without even taking a moment to ask what it was _you_ wanted. And it sure as hell wasn’t for anyone to get hurt over nothing.

Ravus looked at Cor again, letting go of the squire’s arm. “I’ll escort her to her quarters. She won’t cause a stir any further.”

Cor nodded once and watched the young woman pick up her sword and follow Ravus toward the exit. He slowly followed, giving Ignis and Gladio a lingering look before passing through the crowds after the prince and his charge.

“Dude.” Prompto stood next to you and let out a breath. “What was that?”

You shrugged, hoping to play off how upset you were. “Looks like everybody wants a piece of you, Prom.”

It seemed to work, his face growing slightly red. “Uh, right. I’m gonna—” He left your side to go to Gladio without finishing his thought.

Voices surrounded you, the guests that hadn’t lost interest staring between the four of you in the emptied space on the dance floor. You peered around the edge of the crowd, unwilling to talk to Ignis just yet, and spotted Mom watching you along with everyone else.

Well, shit.

You closed your eyes with a sigh. She was going to have questions, and even if you had the answers, you really didn’t want to talk about what was going on with Ignis and Ravus. You needed to set things straight with both of the men to avoid more conflict. You’d start with finally proposing to Ignis, you told yourself. It felt off, though, when you opened your bag and looked at the pen. Had the best time passed? You’d wanted to ask him at midnight, but he’d been gone and you— you had—

You looked up, staring at Ignis in realization at what he’d said earlier. He’d been looking at you and only frowned in response to your stare. You closed your bag, leaving the pen inside, and took a step toward him. “It wasn’t real, Ignis. It was only a new year’s kiss.”

He flinched at your sudden admittance, and you knew you’d guessed right. He’d seen something of what had happened between you and Ravus. He’d seen enough to make him angry.

“Ravus didn’t even want to,” you kept going, taking another step forward. You felt a soft desperation you never had before. “He was just calming me down from the crowds.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes. “Is that how he’s been helping you while you were away?”

You faltered, disbelief clouding your mind. Ignis had allowed his jealousies to get the better of him in Tenebrae to the point that you’d slept with each other before actually talking things through. He’d treated you like something he needed to reclaim, if only in secret. He’d shown none of that envy during your phone calls or in his messages to you between then and now. You’d thought the jealousy was over, that _you_ were the one who needed to be worried. But it was clear he still thought you were something more to Ravus.

This time, you didn’t have an excuse. This time, Ignis must’ve felt like he had undeniable proof that you had lied about the nature of your relationship with the prince all along. His suspicion had been admissible, only hurting when you let yourself think about it for too long. You had your own thoughts that ran down similar veins when it came to his lady friend.

You didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t seem to matter if you said anything at all. Ignis took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sharp sigh. You took another step toward him, but he stepped around you, walking past and into the throngs of people as he slid the spectacles back onto his face.

He didn’t look back when you called his name.

—

Mom took your bed while you curled up in Prompto’s. He’d not come back to the apartment, which wasn’t really a surprise with how well things seemed to be going with Gladio. Or he could’ve been hanging out with Noctis. Maybe all four of them were together, Ignis included, and they were saying any number of nasty things about you. All of them had reasons to not like you after tonight, you thought.

Ravus, too. You’d provoked the kiss out of him. The initial contact had been fine. His intentions had been clear: simple and chaste. It was the rest you took blame for. You buried your face into Prompto’s pillow with a groan. Your heart had been burning an inexplicable hole in your chest after the kiss, but he’d seemed less than pleased.

Fighting these thoughts, you left the comfort of Prompto’s blankets to get a glass of water. It was almost three in the morning with no sign that sleep would be on its way. You stood in the kitchen, staring at your phone as you drank the water. No messages from anyone. Nothing.

You jumped slightly when you turned to put the cup into the dishwasher and found Mom standing in the archway. You feigned annoyance, though you didn’t have to try very hard. “You scared me.”

 _Tonight was exciting_ , she signed. _I can’t count how many people I danced with._

You laughed a little as you put the cup away. “I should’ve brought you out here sooner.” You shut the door to the dishwasher with your foot and gave her a tired smile. “Did you miss the city?”

She shook her head. _I already miss home. You can’t see the stars here._

You brought a hand to her shoulder, encouraging her out of the kitchen. If she stuck around there for too long, she’d start cooking, and you didn’t think you could stomach a meal right now. She followed your lead, but turned to you in the hallway.

_I didn’t know you were so popular._

Your smile froze. “What do you mean?”

Mom’s smile only grew. _Those boys were fighting over you._

Expression falling, you continued your trip back to Prompto’s room. Mom caught you by the arm, and you looked back with a real feeling of annoyance this time. You didn’t want to talk about this now. You knew it was your fault they had almost fought, but it hadn’t been _over_ you. You'd just add this to the growing string of misunderstandings.

 _I never was a fan of love triangles_ , she signed after letting go of your arm. _You should pick soon. Everyone will be happier._

Pick what? There was no choice there. You’d chosen Ignis a long time ago, and Ravus wasn’t even a part of the equation. As if he had any interest in you beyond a begrudging friendship. That was probably dead, too, after that kiss.

“Sure, mom,” you said, allowing her a shred of confidence that she’d been anywhere near the mark. You did hope to fix things. You just weren’t sure how yet.

—

Prompto had gotten to the apartment sometime while you’d been out seeing Mom off at the bus station. He’d left his wadded up suit jacket on the floor of the living room. You kicked at it with a roll of your eyes as you threw yourself onto the couch. He found you like that half an hour later, his hair wet from a shower and obvious marks on his neck.

“Dude,” you said as soon as you rolled over and saw them. “Did you even sleep last night, you freak?”

He slapped his neck with both hands to cover them. “So what if I didn’t?”

You grinned up at him. “Gross.”

He dropped his hands, leaning over to flick your face. “Right, I’m the one finally getting laid, and it’s suddenly gross.”

You swatted his hand away, sitting up to wipe off the water that had dripped from his hair into your face. “Jokes aside, I wanna talk about last night.”

Prompto tumbled over the back of the couch to sit next to you. The shoulders of his t-shirt were wet, and he wasn’t wearing pants. It was comforting that he could slip back into that high level of familiarity with you after being apart for half a year. It was like slipping on an old, comfortable sweater. Warm.

“Me, too,” he said, picking up his jacket from the floor. He began to dig through the pockets. “So you kissed Ravus? I’m guessing something happened.”

You’d known he was going to come right at you with that. It was a wonder Gladio hadn’t already. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you watched him move his hand from pocket to pocket until he found what he was looking for. He withdrew some lip balm he’d borrowed from you at one point in the night. With an expectant look on his face, he tossed it into your lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about the squire first,” you suggested, sending the look back at him.

Curiosity ate at you over what it could’ve been that Prompto had done to lead the squire on. You hoped that’s all it was. Anything more, and you’d question everything you’d known about the man. It had been one of the many worries that had kept you up for most of the night.

His eyes widened, blue flicking about as he looked around the room to avoid eye contact. He twisted the suit jacket in his hands.

“When they visited us the other day to trade gifts, she uh, she kissed me,” he said. “Like, on the mouth. I didn’t stop her. I know I should’ve, but it happened so fast.”

You blinked, reaching toward him to stop the twisting of his fingers in the jacket. “That’s it?”

His brows arched in surprise at your lack of disgust. “I let her kiss me! I should’ve shut it down right then, but I kinda liked that someone wanted me.” He lifted his hands to cover his face. “I’m— I’m messed up, dude.”

“That’s how most people greet each other in Tenebrae. It’s a cultural thing,” you said flatly. “I mean, she totally has a huge crush on you, but she’s kissed me before. You gotta learn to throw a hand up in her face to stop her.”

He peeked through his hands. “You’re not just saying that?”

You snorted, relieved that it had been no big deal after all. Your image of Prompto would remain unchanged. He was only a _normal_ pervert, not the creep you briefly worried he might’ve been. “Nope. Just consider yourself lucky Ravus doesn’t do the same thing.”

“Only ‘cause he’s too busy kissing you?”

The response had been quick enough that there was a delay as you stared at him. Then, with a shove, you frowned. “Shut the hell up. It was nothing.”

He lowered his hands and shook his head. “It was something. I’ve never seen Iggy that mad.”

You hadn’t either, which had been another of the restless thoughts on your mind.

“Okay, sure,” you relented. “I got overwhelmed at midnight so Ravus took me out of the ballroom to calm down.”

When you said nothing for several seconds, Prompto looked expectant again. “And then?”

You chewed on your lip, then forced a shrug as if this wasn’t any special news. “And then I kinda asked him to kiss me. So he did.”

A confused grin came to Prompto’s face, but before he could probe any further, you sighed.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” you said. “It wasn’t the best. I’d say he’s like, a C or a very low B. Just passable. It kinda felt like he’d never kissed someone before.”

“You mean it was sloppy?”

“No. He seemed confident, I guess. He just didn’t have the… moves?” You stopped yourself from continuing the thought, shaking your head. “No, nice try. We’re not talking about this.”

He snickered, eyes trained on you. “You’re pretty close to dad-cake, huh?”

You looked down at the balm in your hand. “I mean, yeah. You know everything about it,” you said, rolling another shrug over your shoulders. This one felt less convincing in its casual front. “It’s like how a therapist has to know all the important stuff about you so they can help.”

“I dunno... A therapist wouldn't kiss their patient, right?”

“He’s not my actual therapist.”

“So then your example doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does,” you defended. “You’re just dumb.”

He laughed when you shoved him again, and stood to stretch, reaching his arms up and behind his head. “Look, you’re great, but I’d never kiss you just because you said it’s okay. He had to wanna do it, right? It had to be on his mind.”

You uncapped the balm, putting it on rather than adding to this pointless conversation. You didn’t need thoughts like that taking root in your mind. There were enough problems for you to deal with.

—

The Citadel reopened to the public —at least, the public departments— on January second. With your thoughts and worries a little more organized after a day of decompressing and talking with Prompto, you took the afternoon train to the palace wearing something on the nicer end of your wardrobe. You had a bad feeling, probably stemming from the way things had taken a turn at the ball. The argument, the near fight, and your subsequent ejection from the party. The last time you’d seen Ignis, he’d been glaring at you, and you were on your way to propose to him now?

To say it was a bad feeling was a bit of an understatement, but you were tired of trying to do it the right way. If there even was a right way to propose to someone, it certainly wasn’t working for you. It was a new year, and your only goal was to stop overthinking things. So you were going to go right to Ignis’ office, slam the pen on his desk, and politely demand he give you an answer.

The chime of your phone disrupted your thoughts. You faked a smile at a kid sitting directly across from you on the train as you withdrew it from a pocket.

 ** _Ravus:_ ** _Visit my rooms when you arrive at the Citadel._  

You furrowed your brow. How could he possibly know where you were going? You considered asking but knew that receiving both messages and explanations from him were rare so you doubted you’d get a response.

 **_You:_ ** _Where are your rooms?_

By the time you were walking up the grand staircase that led to the main entrance of the Citadel, he’d replied with the floor and wing he was in. You hoped the guards didn’t give you too hard a time getting into the temporary residential area. You were pushing your luck by going up to an office so important as it was. There was no comforting little golden token in your pocket this time to reassure you that you were meant to be there.

—

With the usual delay from the guards, you made it up to the thirty third floor. Smoothing a hand down your blouse, hitching your bag more securely on your shoulder, you tried for as much confidence as you could muster. Thoughts fluttered through your mind, both helpful and not. You wore the bracelet he’d bought you for the winter holiday. Finding jewelry you actually liked was difficult, and this was no exception, but you used it as a reminder of the sweet Ignis you’d been with only a few days prior. You needed that to counteract the furious man you’d seen on New Year’s Eve.

In the corridor just down from Ignis’ office, all at once, your thoughts came to a halt. It was like flipping a coin, the side that landed would be the thoughts that won out in the end, positive or negative. At the sight you were met with, one that made you stop as suddenly as your mind had, you felt your hopes drain away. The negative had won. Your stomach twisted like a pit of snakes, curling around itself in tight knots.

Walking out of the room of secretaries that led to Ignis’ office was his lady friend. Her presence alone was unwelcome. You hadn’t quite extinguished your envy over how quickly and easily Ignis had moved on from you to her. You tried to squash the feeling because he’d chosen _you_. He’d left her for you when he visited Tenebrae. At least you assumed so. He was still less forthright about things than you cared for, but he’d spent months encouraging you and waiting for you.

None of that explained the large, golden, hard-to-miss piece of jewelry that hang from her neck. When she slowed to a stop, recognizing you, she was close enough that you could make out the design etched onto the necklace that rested just above her cleavage.

Before you could properly think, you took a step toward her and lifted a hand to point at it. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. “When did he give that to you?”

The woman looked down at the necklace, a hand coming up to clutch it lightly as if protecting it from you. The idea was absurd, you thought as you furrowed your brow in irritation. You’d never wear something that gaudy. Either Ignis’ taste had significantly lowered in standard or he’d been as meticulous about giving her the perfect courtship token as he had for you.

“This morning,” she said, giving you a wary look. She had an obvious overnight bag hitched at her elbow.

Further into a spiral, your stomach and thoughts fell at all of the clues. Just how angry had Ignis been during the ball? You still couldn’t figure out what had happened aside from the obvious misunderstanding with the midnight kiss. You’d hoped to clear that up today, but that seemed impossible now. Pointless in the face of this news.

You dropped your hand. It had begun to shake, and you held a firm grip on the strap of your bag to stop the tremor. “Is it real?”

“What?” She really didn’t seem to understand, her wariness becoming indignant confusion.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the shiny string of gold at her neck. “Is it real or are you faking it for him?”

She stared at you for several seconds, then crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not falling for it. I don’t care if Ignis was in love with you before. I’m not getting involved.”

“I—what?” You were more confused than ever. “ _Was_ in love? He told me he loved me just a week ago.”

Her expression twisted for a moment, the corners of her mouth curling downward as she glared at you. It wasn’t as intimidating as she probably hoped. “I know. The other night, he was—” She looked like she was about to cry, but seemed to steel herself as she grabbed her necklace again. “He made this for _me_ , and I said yes. You had your chance.”

The words were hollowing. She pulled the strap of her overnight bag up to her shoulder and walked toward you. Expecting aggression, you squared your shoulders, but she only passed you. Your eyes followed the golden token she wore, out for everyone to know that Ignis had, in fact, chosen to pursue _her_ and not you.

She looked back at you with a final glare. “Who pretends to be in a courtship? I can’t believe you’d even ask that.”

Left alone in the corridor, you heard the distant chatter of the secretaries from their large shared space. You walked back toward the elevator, going slow enough that you wouldn’t have to share it with that woman on the way down. There was no point in seeing Ignis now. If you did, you couldn’t guarantee you wouldn’t slap him or begin to sob pathetically, or —most likely— both.

—

The temporary residency section of the Citadel was halfway down the building from Ignis’ office. You knocked on the door Ravus’ directions had led you to and waited for what felt like a century as you slowly descended into the comfort of dissociation. When it finally swung open, your eyes met a firm chest, covered by only the thin fabric of his undershirt. You kept them there, uninterested in meeting Ravus’ gaze.

“Hey.” You let your eyes wander down his arm, following the long sleeve of the white shirt, ending at his hand on the door’s handle. “What did you need?”

When he turned around and walked further into his quarters without a response, you followed and closed the door behind you. Glancing up, you were met with his eyes and immediately turned your attention elsewhere.

The room was ostentatious, something befitting a guest as important as himself. It didn’t suit him, though. He always stood out in the pure black of your city, even in this room— in the silk of the curtains and the leather of the sofa you walked toward. You focused on this in attempt to not crumble inward. If you could keep this friendship from falling apart, that would be good enough. Ravus kept saying you didn’t need him anymore, but it felt like you did now more than ever.

You sat down, sinking into the plush sofa and finally looked at him. He’d pulled his hair back into a knotted bun at the back of his head, a look you’d only seen on the rare occasion you’d catch him in the training rooms. Not because he didn’t train, but because why the hell would _you_ spend time there? You were never sure how you felt about his hair like that but couldn’t help staring all the same. A slight frown pulled at his mouth, giving you nothing as far as figuring out his mood.

“I have something for you,” he said without ceremony. He sat in an armchair that matched the sofa and stretched out an arm toward you. “Hand me your carbuncle.”

You were slow to catch on to what he was saying, your mind not fully in the present. “My what?”

He pursed his lips, leaning forward to rest an elbow on his knee, his arm still outstretched. “The doll you keep in your pocket.”

Okay?

You took the small totem from a pocket of the cardigan you were wearing. It was new, nice, and soft. It had made you feel more confident on your way to the Citadel. Not that that mattered anymore. You didn’t understand why Ravus needed the carbuncle if he intended to give _you_ something. This seemed more like an unsolicited trade off. With only the small amount of reluctance you could muster in your spaced out state, you dropped it into his palm.

“I didn’t get you anything,” you murmured, watching him sit back to eye the doll in his hand.

“That’s fine.” It was dismissive, said with an uncaring wave of his free hand.

Used to this, you kicked off your shoes and drew your legs up, sitting more comfortably. There was a newspaper, a book, and a mug of something on the coffee table between you.

“This your coffee?” you asked, already picking it up to peer inside. He hummed a noncommittal sound, his attention on the doll. You watched his brows draw together in concentration as you sipped from the mug. Too sweet, as always. You drank more despite the distaste you had for so much sugar. You’d always suspected he needed it to counteract the bitterness and salt that seemed to make up his personality.

He held the carbuncle in a large hand, bringing the other down to cover it. A soft, white glow filled the space between his palms, radiating out in gentle peals of light. You stared at it, downing the rest of the coffee and putting the cup back without taking your eyes off the spectacle.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. His concentration was unbroken, his eyes drawing closed.

You would’ve felt awkward sitting there for whatever the hell this was, but you were so close to falling apart, and you _couldn’t_ do that in front of Ravus. He was done helping you; he’d made that clear enough when he’d left you at the ball. The fact that he’d wanted to see you at all was still a surprise you hadn’t quite figured out.

The glow around his hands faded, and he opened them to reveal… the carbuncle. It was exactly the same. You hadn’t known what else to expect. He lifted it between long fingers, sighing with another frown.

“On second thought… I’ve nothing for you. Here.” He reached across the coffee table to hand it back.

You took it with one hand, grabbing his wrist with another to keep him from sitting back again. “What’s going on?”

He looked at where you held his wrist, then met your eyes as he pulled his arm roughly out of your grip. “Never you mind. It’s an impossibility at this point in time.”

You glared at him but felt it morph into a pout pretty quickly. “What’s impossible?”

With a shake of his head, he picked up his mug to drink from it only to look inside and roll his eyes. He pushed himself up from the chair and walked toward a kitchen you could see from an open doorway. “Since you’ve come all this way, would you care for coffee or tea?”

You watched him disappear without hearing your answer. Some time passed, and with it, your patience. You heard him doing something in the kitchen and got up to check it out.

“I didn’t come here to see you,” you said as soon as you stepped into the kitchen. Stopping next to him, you faltered at your own sudden statement. That hadn’t meant to come out. Your emotions were all mixed up. Why were you feeling so defensive?

Ravus was unbothered, placing a kettle on the stovetop. “Yet you’re in my rooms.”

“I came to—” You swallowed, then bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. You were going to save your breakdown for home, leave it for the privacy of your bedroom so that not even Prompto would be bothered.

Ravus looked at you, his expression easing slightly. He reached down to the hand you had digging into your arm, forcing you to let go. “I hope you don’t expect an apology. I’d warned you of my intent to duel him if he hurt you.”

“And I told you to kill me instead,” you said, shaking his hand off. If you wanted to dig your nails into your skin to keep ahold of reality, that was your choice.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He passed you to open a cabinet, taking out a teacup. “I learned something the other night.”

You leaned against the counter. “And what’s that, papa-gâteau?”

He came back and placed the cup on the countertop next to you. The undershirt pulled with the motion of his muscles, but you were too distracted with your frayed thoughts and emotions to appreciate it. It seemed weird to do that now, anyway. Before, in Tenebrae, it had been a silent appreciation that you’d kept to yourself, something to tide you over in the completely sexless void that was life in the manor. Now, with Prompto’s observations quietly echoing from the deeper parts of your mind, you didn’t want to acknowledge that part of yourself.

Consternation in his expression, he said, “No matter what I may say, whatever advice I give you, not a bit of it matters if Scientia doesn’t have the heart for it.”

You blinked slowly, a frown crossing your face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did you go through with it today?”

Without thinking, your hand returned to your arm, but he caught it before you could continue your unintentional self-torture.

“Don’t you think,” he began, staring down at you. “That if you and Scientia were meant to be, you would’ve happened by now?”

Your hand curled in his as you tried to tug it away. He held fast, his grip not painfully tight but enough to startle you at the inability to pull away. Ignis had always let you go the moment you seemed uncomfortable with his touch. Ravus, someone who avoided touch with people unless necessary, clearly held different boundaries.

He drew your hand toward his chest, pulling you a step closer to him. “Tell me why you long for him when he doesn’t deserve you.”

You felt your eyes water, your chin wavering even though you were biting as hard as you could on your inner cheek. You pulled at your hand again and met a hard resistance in his grip. You hissed even though it didn’t hurt, hoping he’d let go. You were further surprised when that only seemed to make him hold your hand more firmly.

One hard swallow, then you let out a heavy breath. “He asked someone else. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve _him_.”

His glare eased, and his grip on your hand loosened enough that you slipped out of it a second later. You could still feel the soft, fine fabric underneath your fingertips. His chest had been hard and hot underneath your palm. You forced those intrusive thoughts away as you leveled a sad look at him. It was hard now because your eyes were completely clouded with tears that hadn’t spilled over yet. 

“Don’t be foolish.” He was a blur in your vision, but you could hear an unfamiliar softness in his voice. “I know what you’ve experienced. You deserve happiness, at the very least.”

Your tears were hot, falling down your cheeks in heavy drops when you tried to blink them away. You put a hand to your mouth to quiet a cry that had suddenly torn its way up from your chest. “No, I don’t. He doesn’t want me.”

More useless words tried to tumble forth, but you stepped forward and pressed your face into his chest, letting go with a muffled sob. Your shoulders shook as you cried, your arms wrapping around his broad chest in a hug. You waited for him to shove you away, but he stood still.

The room was silent aside from your relentless crying until the kettle he’d put on to boil began to whistle. Gently, he pulled away from you and went to the stove.

You wiped at your eyes, trying and failing to gather yourself. The waterworks weren’t ending and your breaths were ragged. So much for waiting until you got home to fall apart.

“Go back to the living room and sit down. I’ll bring you your tea momentarily.” Ravus nodded toward the other room with a small motion of his hand.

You listened, going back to the leather sofa to sit. He probably didn’t know how to handle your unfortunate emotional state.  No, he just wasn’t obligated to handle that shit anymore.

Alone in the room, you tried to gather yourself again, this time with mild success. You picked up the newspaper to occupy your mind, but nothing noteworthy was happening. You were looking for the page with all of the crappy comic strips when Ravus entered the room. He placed a teacup directly in front of you on the coffee table and took a seat beside you.

“Tell me what occurred,” he said, crossing his arms as he sat back. “He’s chosen someone else?”

His question took you by surprise, and another jolt of pain worked its way through your chest. You weren’t talking about this. Not right now and not with him.

“How’s the squire?” Your voice wavered. You picked up the teacup to give your hands something to do.

Ravus stared at you. “Did he ever know you intended to propose?”

You sipped from the cup, the burn of it doing well to settle your nerves. “Is she in a lot of trouble?”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” he snapped.

You glared at him, but you didn’t think it was that effective with your red, watery eyes. “Stop trying to help me.”

Ravus looked away, eyes roaming the room as his arms unfolded, hands gripping his knees. “She’s alright.”

Gazing over the teacup at his profile, you let the room fall into silence. He kept clenching and relaxing his jaw. Your eyes followed the point of his nose, the strong line of his jaw, making a mental map of the face of someone who knew you better than most.

_So you kissed Ravus? It had to be on his mind._

You put down the teacup, and he looked at you. He wasn’t mad about the kiss, he’d invited you here to give you something he apparently didn’t have, and he was still trying to help you. Maybe Prompto was right. You let the idea spark in your mind, not heeding your messy thoughts about Ignis.

Ravus froze when you reached a hand toward him, leaning his way. He didn’t move when you climbed onto your knees next to him or when you rested your hand on his chest. Before you could think better of it, you kissed him. It was soft and simple. He made no effort to kiss back. You pressed harder, leaning into him, but he brought his hands to your shoulders, gripping them to push you off.

Stopped from falling back on the sofa by his hold on your shoulders, you looked at him with wide, searching eyes, new tears sliding their way down your splotchy face. “Why not?”

His usual frown was present, but his expression was troubled, his eyes flitting over your face. “Don’t do things you’ll regret.”

You wiped a hand over your cheeks and leaned toward him, but his hands kept you back. “Who says I’ll regret it?”

“You will.” His eyes were hard, but you’d seen that look too many times for it to work. “You’re stronger than you allow yourself to be.”

“How can you say that?” You shoved at his chest, but it did nothing. “How can you be so nice and not _want_ me?”

His gaze was unrelenting. “This has nothing to do with my desires. You’re in a fragile emotional state.”

“If _you_ don’t want me, then—” You felt like you were gasping for air. “Then I’m really alone.”

He sighed, his hands squeezing your shoulders before he let go. His voice was quiet but as hard as his eyes. “If you're alone, it’s your own doing. You push, you isolate, and you cower.”

You scoffed, your throat thick with emotions you resenting having. He was blaming all of this on you as if he had no part in it. You would’ve been lying if you said the rejection didn’t sting a little, not helping the situation.

“It’s _your_ fault.” You shoved his chest again. “If you hadn’t kissed me, maybe Ignis wouldn’t be with someone else right now. You ruined my one chance at love.”

Ravus’ silvery brows arched. “One chance? You both had countless chances and never once troubled yourselves with working it out honestly among each other. It’s not my fault you’re both dense. I’m an Oracle in training, not a god, and certainly not a matchmaker.”

You rolled your eyes. “No shit. Everything we did was pointless, and now the only person I’ve ever been in love with is courting someone else. _So_ glad for all your help.”

“You’re acting as though _I’m_ the one who broke your heart.”

“You _did._  He wouldn’t have assumed we were together if it weren’t for you.”

“His assumption should’ve spurred action,” Ravus said, scowling. “I’d expected him to come after me, but he chose to verbally attack you instead. That was hardly my fault.”

“Stop shifting blame. I don’t even get why we—” Throwing up your hands, you huffed out a sigh and stood up. “Forget it. I _never_ should’ve taken romantic advice from someone who’s been alone their entire fucking life.”

Ravus crossed his arms again, not standing to follow you. “I may not have known what Scientia would do if he thought me a rival, but you’re entirely predictable.”

With another roll of your eyes, you picked up your shoes. “Predict this.” Flipping him off, you rounded the corner and walked directly down the hallway, through the heavy door that led out of his guest quarters.

Standing in the empty corridor, you took a moment to clumsily put your shoes back on. You were halfway down the long hallway, boots loud against marble as you planned to stomp your entire way home, when you heard Ravus call out.

“You don’t find it insulting he made such an assumption instead of asking you directly?”

Stopping, you looked back at him with irritation. The audacity of the man was appalling. He wanted to continue the conversation? Really? Out here?

He leaned in his doorway, still going on as if you weren’t ready to take off one of your shoes to chuck it at him. “That’s a sign that he knew the truth of how he felt and wanted a way out of being with you. Wise move, I’d say.”

He was intentionally hurting you now, you thought. He was being a complete asshole, and while that was nothing new for Ravus, he’d never been this particular brand of mean to you before. It had never been at the expense of your feelings. You said nothing, turning away when you felt fresh tears welling in your eyes. You left him standing there, hoping you made it home before you cried again.

You didn’t.

—

Wind bit at your skin, making your nose and ears red with cold. You held the hot takeout cup of Ebony in both hands, leaning on a signpost casually. It had been twenty one minutes since you’d gotten to the spot, and you were prepared to be there for a while.

You stared at the apartment building. It was five stories up, his place. You couldn’t possibly see through the window, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t like you were there to spy on him. It was your nerve that needed hyping up before you could cross the street and enter the building.

You were going to apologize and try to work things out. It had been over two weeks, and between Gladio’s occasional suggestion that Ignis wasn’t serious with his new courtship and Prompto’s insistence that you take time for yourself, you weren’t sure what your best choice was. Only that you needed Ignis in your life in some way. Even if it meant ripping your heart out every time you saw him.

A person walking their dog passed the building, and you told yourself that you’d go in and knock on Ignis’ door if another dog passed by. Specifically that same type of dog. It had to be the same color, too. And it had to be walking in the same direction as that dog. Yes. If that specific thing happened, you were going to do it for sure.

Your phone chimed, and though it had been only radio silence between you and Ignis since the ball, you fumbled for it anyway. Because maybe! There was always that chance! He could’ve been missing you as much as you missed him. Maybe he was upstairs right now, thinking about you.

To your disappointment, it wasn’t a message at all but an email. You checked it just in case it had something important to do with school.

**_Ravus Nox Fleuret_ **

_I hope you’re aware this doesn’t come easy for me. There are…_

Your eyes widened slightly. That had been another severed line of communication. Ravus hadn’t apologized —and you doubted this sudden email would contain one— after your argument, and he’d left Insomnia without saying a thing. He’d passed his point of being heard out. You frowned at the email, sliding your thumb across the screen to delete it without opening it.

Before you could shove your phone back into your pocket, it began to chime again, this time with Prompto’s face on the screen.

“Hey,” you answered, fighting a shiver with a sip from your coffee. “What’s up?”

“Dude, are you close?” You could hear the sound effects from the video game he was playing. “I ordered pizza.”

You shook your coffee cup a little, testing its fullness. Still plenty left to last a while longer. “I’m still at school,” you said. “Staying late to study.”

“It’s the second day of the semester. What’s there to study for?”

“We’re graduating this year. Never too early to give a damn about your grades, Prom.” You looked up at Ignis’ apartment window. His lights were on, but you saw no movement.

Prompto sighed through the line. “Fine, be lame. I’m gonna eat the whole pizza myself.”

“Invite Gladio over. Or Noct.” You sipped the coffee, warming yourself briefly. “Good time to invite him since I won’t be home for a while.”

Surprisingly, Gladio didn’t hate you. He retained the notion that you and Ignis were inevitable. This was just a bump in your journey to each other. The guy was a bigger romantic than Ignis if he actually thought that way. But a very tiny part of yourself hoped he was right.

Noctis, on the other hand, was pissed. You didn’t know if it was because you’d hurt Ignis _again_ or the fact that you’d actually kissed Ravus, the worst person on the planet, like _come on, the dude’s unpleasant, to say the least, and you let him put his mouth on you?!_

That quieted Prompto, and you felt bad for him being caught in the middle. Noctis wouldn’t be angry for much longer, you thought. Luna had some interesting opinions about the situation herself, which swayed Noctis more and more every time you ran into him when he visited Prompto. The last time he’d come over, he actually laughed at some of your jokes.

“Just don’t stay out too late,” Prompto said. You could hear it, that twinge of worry. He thought you’d relapse, and while you were on the cusp, you were _trying_ and hated that he worried. For the time being, at least, he was worrying about the wrong thing. Even you knew what you were doing was uncool.

You hung up and took another drink of coffee, shoving your hand into your pocket along with your phone. A shiver ran through you, but you stayed in place. The sun was going down soon; it was only going to get colder. You persisted, hating yourself but unable to stop.

—

You’d forgotten how much you enjoyed going to classes rather than spending weeks at a time working in a studio. Study sessions, video games with Prompto, and classes that you could doodle or nap through were all you lived for anymore.

You stopped checking your phone for messages from Ignis around a month into the year. He was avoiding you. He told the guys it was work or other obligations, but you knew better. Which was fine because you were avoiding him, too. No matter how much you tried to talk yourself into approaching him, you couldn’t do it. It was a mutual understanding that things had gone very wrong, neither of you wishing to talk about it, and there was nothing the others could do to change that. No matter how hard certain people tried.

When his birthday came in early February, you were finally graced with an official confirmation that he was courting his lady friend. Unlike the courtship you’d begun with him the year before, this one was genuine and publicly announced. You didn’t have to pretend to be happy for him because you didn’t go to the birthday party the guys had thrown for him. Instead, you found yourself at home, watching every manner of horror movie to match the visceral pain that was cutting at your heart.

Though you hadn’t heard anything from Ravus outside of that ignored email —big surprise there, he rarely spoke to anyone if it wasn’t in person— you were tempted to call him as you went through your collection of scary movies. Prompto, good friend that he was, had helped plan Ignis’ party, and was kind enough not to give you a play by play. Unlike Gladio who, for reasons that were beyond you, still held out hope that you and Ignis would get back together.

 **_Gladio:_ ** _she keeps talkin about chocobos, it’s like she only has one setting lol_

 **_Gladio:_ ** _iggy has hover hand anytime they take a picture, it’s hilarious_

 **_Gladio:_ ** _you should’ve come, juicy, Iggy keeps getting this hopeful look when someone shows up like he’s waiting for you_

You were pretty sure Gladio thought he was being helpful in some kind of way, but each message only made you withdraw into yourself further. It wasn’t that you’d stopped missing Ignis. You missed him terribly, every day. It felt like there was much more than just a city between you, and in a way, there was. As much as you hated to admit it, Ravus had made fair points back in his guest quarters that you’d ruminated on ever since.

No one had forced Ignis to make his choice. You’d seen it for yourself. You’d waited around the ballroom for him all night like a total loser. He could’ve approached you in a more direct and honest way, but he hadn’t. As stupid as it was, you were also just the tiniest bit hurt that Ignis hadn’t decided to fight for you, despite the fact that the conflict had been completely based on assumptions.

That’s what you gathered, anyway. Because you still didn’t believe Ravus could’ve actually been interested in you. He’d pushed you away when you kissed him in his quarters. He _couldn’t_ have liked you. The idea was absurd no matter how many times Prompto had reasoned it to you. It wasn’t like he was pressing you to approach Ravus with your withered and broken heart. He just wanted you to be happy again, something that seemed like a greater impossibility with each day that passed.

You uncurled yourself from the certified Noctis-approved blanket burrito you’d made and meandered to the kitchen. From underneath the sink, past the bleach and cleaning supplies where Prompto never looked, you grabbed the neck of a large bottle of gin. After a bit of research, you’d realized it was the perfect drink to have around with Prompto none the wiser.

You’d have it with your morning orange juice before getting on the train to the university. You’d put it in your water bottle with claims of going to the gym, and it would warm you from the inside as you staked out Ignis’ apartment —gods, you were glad you’d gotten past that week-long obsession. You’d drink it in droves when Prompto spent nights outside the apartment.

You opened a cupboard to get a cup but decided you’d finish the bottle tonight so there was no cup needed. Your own little private celebration. Happy birthday, Ignis.

When you settled on the couch, blankets bunched around you, the screams of the victims on the tv screen gave you a feeling of catharsis. They were wailing and dying, and you wanted to scream along with them. Your phone lit up from where it sat on the coffee table, catching your attention. You’d silenced it after Gladio’s tenth message that night.

With a heavy swig right from the bottle, you picked it up and wondered what bullshit the big guy had to share with you now.

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I hope you’re being kind to yourself, ma crevette._

You stared at it for a long stretch of time, finishing a fourth of the bottle before you replied.

 **_You:_ ** _Duck off ravus_

 **_You:_ ** _Duck_

 **_You:_ ** _FUCJ_

 **_You:_ ** _lmao cunt_

 **_You:_ ** _Thar works lol CUNt off ravius_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Consider me unsurprised by the hostility._

 **_You:_ ** _surprise bitsh I’m still hate you_

 **_You:_ ** _not hate but angery_

 **_You:_ ** _waht do you wan?t_

 **_You:_ ** _?? ?!!?!??_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Are you well?_

 **_You:_ ** _ye papa Im v well ;)_

That was enough of that, you thought and tossed your phone to the other side of the couch. You’d told him off proper. Maybe. You felt good about it, at least.

The movie was reaching its climax, and you sprawled yourself along the couch, wrapped up in the blankets. You felt safe and warm with the alcohol in your system and the familiar frames on the tv screen. This was great. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

For some reason, you found yourself crying. It didn’t make any sense. You were _happy_ like this. So much freedom came with being single. You were so over Ignis. You needed no one, and no one needed you. Stifling a cry into your sleeve, you sat up and grabbed your phone from where it lay at your feet.

 **_Ravus:_ ** _If this is chat speak, I detest it._

 **_You:_ ** _I’m miss you a lot ravu s_

You fell asleep waiting for a reply, feeling your stomach roil painfully with alcohol and acid.

When you woke up in the early morning, the sun shining through the window into your eyes, you looked around for signs that Prompto had come back. His shoes weren’t in the usual place he left them after kicking them off. So he hadn’t come back yet.

You rubbed at your crusty eyes and tried to gather moisture in your dry mouth. Checking your phone, you saw a message from Prompto saying he was at Gladio’s. That was going on three days this week. You liked the apartment to yourself, but it was extremely quiet at times. You missed him.

A few more messages from Gladio that made your stomach lurch. Except, no. That was the hangover hitting you hard. You stumbled to the bathroom and wretched until you felt hollow. While you brushed your teeth, you checked what was left.

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I miss you, too._

Your brushing slowed, your eyes reading it over again several times. You smiled around the toothbrush.

 **_You:_ ** _Careful, I might start to think you care._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Ignis isn’t a jerk just for the sake of it. Reader is unaware of the depth of her own ignorance when it comes to the emotions or motivations of others, if that isn’t obvious. Things won’t be angsty forever. I just can’t, for the fucking life of me, write instant gratification. I’m just glad I was able to get this first part out. I have so many works in progress, it’s not even funny.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by.  
> ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡


	2. I don't feel that I need to explain my art to you, Ravus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me get mushy for a moment and say I appreciate everyone who’s left kudos and comments with their thoughts. I was nervous about sharing this for a few reasons, and you all have been nothing but encouraging.  
> Thanks for that. (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)♡
> 
> I’m jumping out of my comfort zone with this work, and I invite you to jump with me. With that said, fair warning, there’s a **minor nsfw scene** pretty much immediately.
> 
> Like, right now, actually.

You pooled saliva in your mouth, tracing your tongue over his shaft with a long, slick motion. Swirling your soft, wet muscle over the head, you drew him into your mouth. The latex of the condom that separated your tongue from his dick tasted strongly of mint, the smell of it making your eyes water. It wasn’t your favorite flavor so far, but you had a variety to try out and weren’t in any rush to do this without protection anytime soon. You weren’t into swallowing loads anymore. Sex, at least this far, was fine with anyone you found attractive enough, but accepting that level of closeness was no longer an option you were open for.

He dropped his head back, his moans ricocheting off the bathroom walls. He kept calling you _babygirl_ under his breath. How many times had you told him to never give you a pet name? You bit down lightly, barely a movement of your jaw, and he jerked with a hiss.

“N-not a meat tenderizer, baby—”

You pulled back, letting him fall out of your mouth. “Stop calling me that, or I’ll never suck you off again.”

He rushed to assure you he’d stop. The toilet seat beneath him jangled, loose and covered in graffiti that matched the walls. Bass pounded from the other side of the door, an ambient noise that matched the level of romance you felt in this situation. Which was to say, none at all. The only thing you liked about this —the only reason you kept doing it— was the routine. It had been, what? Nearly three months now since you’d spoken to Ignis. Two since he’d gone public with his new girlfriend. Who said you couldn’t find someone of your own?

You gripped the base of your boyfriend, sucking his length back into you mouth with practiced ease. You’d been more eager in the beginning of your relationship, willing to please and be on your knees for longer than you’d ever consider now. He put a hand on your head to help guide the rhythm, but you smacked it away. Give him an inch of control, and he’d take a mile, you thought.

He always came when you gave him even the smallest touch of pain. Sometimes you grew impatient and smacked his thigh or pinched his leg. Once you flicked the place where his shaft met his balls. That had been a huge one, which was pretty weird. But you’d had weirder, if you were honest with yourself.

The smack you’d given his hand had apparently been enough. He groaned, throaty and loud, coming into the condom. You pulled him out of your mouth, the latex becoming sloppy and loose with the semen and his waning erection. You stood up, stretching your legs and rubbing your tender knees. The bathroom floor was filthy. You frowned at a small wet spot on your jeans, pointlessly hoping that it wasn’t piss.

You used the mirror to touch up your face while he cleaned up and tucked himself away. You didn’t usually come here on Tuesdays, but it was Gladio’s birthday, and you’d needed something to stabilize yourself with before facing your friends. If that meant a surprise visit to your boyfriend while he set up his turntables in what was arguably the trashiest nightclub in Insomnia, so be it. Another glance at the wet spot on your pants made you grimace, though. You weren’t sure it was worth it.

“You should come by on Thursday,” he said, coming up behind you, his reflection grinning at you in the mirror. “Half off drinks. I know you’re always thirsty, and I’m playing that night.”

“I’m not gonna be in town.” You ran fingers through your hair and pushed away from the sink before he could pin you. He always tried to force more out of you than you were willing to give. “I’m going to Accordo. School thing.”

His grin remained, and he drew you to him, arms hugging you close. “You’re so smart. Is it a big movie thing?”

“Kinda.” You kept things vague with this guy to protect yourself. Everything you did was to protect yourself. You had lived this year so far in a permanent fight or flight mode, keeping everything close to the vest. You’d never get hurt again.

He kissed your neck, and it made your skin crawl. You closed your eyes, letting the moment pass in tense quiet while his hands roamed your sides. “Maybe when you get back, we can celebrate by finally getting rid of those things you always make me wear on my dick.”

What an original line. Never heard that one before. You already knew what he’d say next once you voiced your opinion on the matter, but spoke anyway, if only to get him to stop touching you with his mouth.

“Condoms or nothing happens between us. No exceptions.”

Just as predicted, he sighed before immediately putting on a suggestive tone. “Then how’s about we keep ‘em on, and you let me get into a different hole for once.”

“You said, when we first met, that my mouth would be fine.” Breaking from his grasp, you inched toward the door. As much as you disliked being around your boyfriend after getting your brief distraction out of him, you were almost as reluctant to leave this situation for the extreme discomfort that awaited you at the small gathering for Gladio’s birthday. Ignis was going to be there. No one had told you as much, but why wouldn’t he? Gladio was his best friend.

Your boyfriend laughed, and it brought you out of your thoughts, grating heavily on your nerves. “Let’s be real. I didn’t think we’d be together for this long.”

There was something you could agree on. Three weeks wasn’t a long time for a relationship, but it felt like an eternity when you were repulsed by your partner’s touch.

—

The day was wet, an overcast sky above as you ascended the steps out of the train station and onto the sidewalk. You’d never been to Gladio’s place before. It was on the nicer end of the city, unfamiliar and strikingly well kept in comparison to the street you lived on with Prompto.

You stepped around a puddle on your way to the address he’d sent. Your mind was a little hazy from the shot you’d taken before leaving the club. It wasn’t enough, you thought, but you wanted to be in the present during the party. To show Ignis you were doing _just fine._ Helping with that image was your face of impeccable makeup and your nicest casual clothes. Thankfully the wet spot on your knee had dried already.

Wavering at the entrance of his apartment building, you stared at the list of names of all the tenants and their corresponding buttons. _Amicitia_ was beautifully written in its little window, and you doubted it was Gladio’s penmanship. You touched it lightly before hovering a hand over the button to call attention to your arrival.

“Don’t bother.”

You froze and looked over your shoulder. Gladio came to a stop on the sidewalk behind you with a large, brown paper bag in an arm. You lowered your hand, turning to him while he passed to open the main door with some kind of electronic key.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, holding the door for you to go in ahead of him. “Prompto and Noct should already be upstairs.”

You nodded, saying nothing. He wasn’t being subtle. You knew he could be, but he so rarely _wanted_ to. It wasn’t going to be that easy, though. You’d never ask about Ignis directly or specifically. That would imply that you cared.

Waiting for him to go ahead since you had no idea where you were going, you checked your phone for the obligatory, post-blowjob, _I miss you and your perfect mouth_ messages from your boyfriend. Getting off always made him emotional. It was equal parts off-putting and hilarious.

 **_Boy:_ ** _I’m goin to miss you to much this weeknd_

 **_Boy:_ ** _mixin a track just for you tonite_

 **_Boy:_ ** _your the reelest girl I’ve ever fucked with_

 **_Boy:_ ** _my muse_

Gladio looked at your phone when you stepped into an elevator with him. “Nine,” he said with a nod toward the interface next to the doors. As you pressed the button, he laughed. “What’s he saying today?”

The doors closed, and you were propelled upward smoothly. You wished your apartment had an elevator.

Scrolling through your messages, you smiled. “Calling me his muse again. Too bad all his songs sound exactly the same.”

Gladio shook his head. “Don’t even get why you’re with him, juicy.”

Your smile waned, and you shrugged as you put away your phone. “Something to do. You keep Prompto all the time now. Am I supposed to be alone?”

“You _could_ call Iggy up.”

You looked at the bag in his arm and chewed on your lip. “So the guys are throwing a party, but you had get your own libations?”

Gladio persisted. “I told him about your movie making it to that festival in Altissia this weekend. Wanted me to congratulate you.”

You ground your teeth, frowning up at him. “Gladio. Please don’t.”

He shared the stare for a moment, the elevator stopping with a _ding_. You stepped out as soon as the doors opened, your shoulder knocking against one in your haste. Then you stopped in the hallway when you realized you didn’t know which way to go.

Gladio sent you a frustrated look as he passed. “Y’know, you could try to be friends again, at least. Make it easier for the rest of us.”

It wasn’t like that hadn’t crossed your mind plenty of times, but it also wasn’t as if you and Ignis were at each other’s throats, either. You’d never put anyone into a position of choosing sides and were thankful Ignis had been as mature. Even more mature, really. So mature that it was like he wasn’t bothered by the split at all.

—

Ignis wasn’t in attendance but several of Gladio’s neighbors were. You spent the better part of the evening flirting with a man who lived a floor below Gladio before Prompto dragged you into another room —Gladio’s place was massive and modern, and you were no small amount of envious— to show you something.

“He put this up before we even dated,” Prompto said, grinning widely at a large framed photograph of a landscape. His face was flush, a drunken glaze over his eyes. You wished you could partake but wanted to keep the impression, at least in front of your friends, that you were still sober.

“That’s great, Prom.” You sipped on your water, biding your time.

He looked at you then, tilting his head. His hair was a bit tousled, expression thoughtful. “I’m sorry Iggy didn’t come.”

The plastic cup crinkled as your hand reflexively tightened. You relaxed and considered your response. _I’m glad he didn’t come_ sounded bitter, but it was true. _I wish he was here_ sounded desperate, but it was just as true. You settled for, “It was his choice,” with an added shrug to show just how indifferent you were.

Prompto leaned on you, an arm tossed over your shoulder. “Noct and I had this idea. We could make another movie. Get Iggy to be in it. What do ya think?”

You looked at the photo on the wall. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s how you fell in love, right?”

With a frown, you glanced over at him, his face close enough you could smell the fruity drink Gladio had made for him earlier in the night. “Prompto, it’s _not_ happening.”

He took a deep inhale, looking down. “I know. M’sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You rested your head on his shoulder, leaning into his embrace. “Since when did you start wanting us to get back together?”

“Since you started seeing _Throbert_. I don’t care if you start dating Gladio’s _dad_ as long as that guy goes away.”

You laughed. “You don’t like my boyfriend?” It was rhetorical. No one liked your boyfriend. Not even you.

Prompto nodded, mussing your hair a bit with the motion. “He sucks big time. Is that his real name?”

You shrugged and emptied your cup of water. “No idea.”

“You can do better.”

With a hum, you closed your eyes. You could still see the outline of the landscape from the photo as if it were etched into your eyelids. Prompto had taken it in the largest park in the city; you’d been there that day. “I don’t want better.”

He squeezed you in his hold, a half hug because you both knew you meant _I don’t deserve better,_ and he didn’t feel like arguing. It was becoming a tired conversation.

—

_It’s in Altissia. Three whole days. It’s the first time I’ve been excited about anything in months. I almost forgot what that was like, haha. I know it’s sudden, but maybe you could|_

You pressed the backspace button, holding it down to delete the last paragraph you’d written in the text box of your newest email. It was your primary form of correspondence with Ravus, who didn’t enjoy the expectation to reply quickly that came with texting or the apparent ordeal of holding a phone to his ear for any extended period of time. You wouldn’t complain. This form of long-winded letter writing gave room for you to be very choosy in what you told him.

The deleted paragraph was a great example. Had you been on the phone, you would’ve blurted out the announcement of the film festival a month ago when you’d found out about it. Ravus wouldn’t care to hear about that. His replies were always succinct and never strayed to new things unless first prompted by you. So you’d done well to avoid things you thought would bore him. You’d rather not get your feelings hurt if you could help it.

You mulled over the email, checked the time, and realized you had class in half an hour.

_About Throbert, I think he’s good for me. Low maintenance. Cheerful. Huge dick. Kind of dumb but in a nice way. There are only so many falsely empowering breakup songs I can listen to before I go a little crazy. Can’t be sad forever, right?|_

You erased _Huge dick_ and then typed it again, thinking it best to not censor yourself on this. It was Ravus. You didn’t want to bore him, but making him uncomfortable would always be fun. Plus, it was true. Throbert had a huge one. It was pretty much his only redeeming quality and the reason you’d had such a fascination with getting him off in the first place.

You signed it off and sent it to Ravus, pleased with your ability to not make it overly long. It would be days before you received a reply. And it would likely only be a paragraph or two. Ravus was a pro at leaving you waiting and wanting for more. You were trying to match that manner but found yourself divulging to him despite how often you held yourself back.

He was much too good a listener, and you had so much to tell him.

—

On your way out of your apartment building, you were stalled by the sight of Luna standing on the sidewalk as if in wait. She’d sent you a message earlier asking if you could hang out, an event that had yet to happen this year so far. You’d told her you were too busy— class and then packing.

“Hey.” You sent a confused look her way and rose a hand in a small wave. She was wearing a black outfit you’d never seen before. Baggy pants that were definitely Noct’s and a hoodie that hang off her slender frame, obscuring any defining feature of her body.

“Hello, I thought I’d join you,” She said, returning the gesture. She was attempting a common Lucian accent, laughing into the sleeve of the hoodie when it sounded terrible.

You checked the time again. Twenty minutes until class began. You were going to be late no matter what but grabbed her sleeve anyway, hoping a few minutes didn’t make a huge dent in your progress for the day. Pulling her along, you looked over your shoulder occasionally. “Why the getup? Are you taking advice on blending in from Noctis?”

Noct, you’d learned, wasn’t all that great at hiding himself in plain sight. Luna didn’t have huge, obvious sunglasses and a hat on, at least. She smiled, keeping up with you on the sheer fact of being taller.

“I wanted to blend in, yes,” she said, dropping her bad accent for her natural Tenebraen lilt. “You, my friend, always give me the runabout. This way, I can get a peek into your life.”

You let go of her sleeve, descending the stairs that led down to the train station. She had a second of difficulty with the turnstiles and an unpreparedness with no train pass, but you were on a train in less than a minute.

“Why even bother?” You stood while she sat, her legs primly crossed while you wiggled about with the force of the train car. “My life is boring.”

“I refuse to believe it until I see it.” She let the smile on her face grow. “I’m also avoiding a meeting.”

You whistled, earning a glare from another commuter in the car with you. You ignored it to lay on a bit of sarcasm. “Wow, you’re bad. What meeting?”

She stood, wobbling a little since the train was still in transit. Grasping the pole you held, she said in a lower, more serious voice, “I’m meant to meet with two council members to be given a first run through of my expected duties as future Queen consort.”

You couldn’t blame her. That sounded boring.

She leaned in to whisper, her face becoming pensive. “Ignis is supposed to be one of the members present. The thought of being in a room with him while an elder tells me to have relations with Noctis more often to produce an heir is dreadful.”

You tried to process this. “That’s really what the meeting’s about?”

Luna nodded, then stopped to shrug. “There are many duties expected of me. I’ll attend to them as I should, but I’ve no patience for being told things of which I’m well aware.”

“I wouldn’t want to be told to fuck more, either,” you said, steeling yourself as the train came to a stop. “Being a royal sounds like a pain in the ass. Commoners get to do whoever they want, whenever they want. Within reason, at least.” 

Luna followed you off the train and into the station. “Don’t paint such a dire picture of it. I’ve known no other life.”

It took you a long stretch to continue the conversation. You were both out of the station and nearly at the gates of the university before you could gather the few guts it took to ask, “So Ignis is in the council now?”

Luna matched your stride, the baggy pants looking so uncomfortable on her, though she made no mention of it. “As far as I’m aware, yes.”

You ruminated on that, approaching the film studies building. Not knowing what was happening in Ignis’ life was one of the worst parts of not being a part of it anymore. You felt just as left out as you had in Tenebrae.

“Kinda early in his career to become a member,” you said as you entered the building.

“It may only be a trial basis, but it was met with enough approval, even that of his Majesty.” Luna was quiet, and her hand caught a soft grasp of your forearm, stopping you just doors down from the classroom. “Ignis has been working himself to exhaustion, and he won’t listen to anyone who tries to help.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. This was all sorts of _not your problem_ , but your heart ached at the thought that he was overworking himself. He was so prone to that behavior. Your first thought was of how you could help, but it was Ignis, and Ignis hated you. And maybe you kind of hated Ignis, too. At least, for now, until you moved past the pain.

So you sent Luna a flat look. “That super sucks, dude.”

—

Your production design class went through a cycle of phases. Reading and bookwork, hands-on applications, and then tests. Today was a hands-on day, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not as Luna followed you into the room.

The professor wasted no time, sending you an impatient look and waving you and Luna toward one of the many areas separated by tape on the floor at the back of the large room. It was empty save for a sheet of paper explaining what kind of movie this pretend set would’ve been for and what vibes it needed to show. You quickly took off your coat to get started. It didn’t hit you to explain what was happening to Luna until you were perusing the amalgamation of junk that lay outside the lined spaces.

You handed her the piece of paper. “We need to make this.”

She read it over as you picked up a lamp. “Is this a test?”

“Kinda.” You walked the lamp to your area and then changed your mind about it, turning around. Your classmates worked around you, and the professor watched your little group in particular. Putting down the lamp, you looked at Luna. “If you just stand there, she’ll kick you out even if you’re a real student.”

Luna nodded, helping you lift a tiny end table. You hated the assignment, but that’s what you got for being late. The fantasy, scifi, and other interesting sets had already been taken. You were doing slice of life, which meant you could get away with making it as generic as possible.

“I have a question about Ravus,” she said as you both lowered the table into your assigned space.

You tensed, focusing on where to put the table. You’d expected something from her much sooner. _Why did you kiss my brother? Why did you make my brother kiss you? Just what were you thinking?_ You had absolutely zero answers to questions like that. You didn’t know, and you didn’t let yourself think about it.

“He hasn’t answered my calls or messages for three weeks now. Have you heard anything?”

You looked up at her in mild surprise that it wasn’t one of those dreaded questions. “I got an email from him this morning.”

Luna frowned, turning her attention to the end table. She passed you and pushed it into a corner. You watched with interest as she went back to the junk piles of random things and picked up a fake potted plant.

“Why would he ignore me? He’s never ignored me.” She put the plant down on the table with a hard _clack_ and went back for more things. To keep from being told off by the professor, you helped and tried to split your attention between the assignment and the conversation.

“He hasn't seemed off to me,” you told her. But what was considered _off_ with Ravus?

“Something has to be going on. He’d send at least a word that he and mother are well.” She paused, looking over at you. “What if mother isn’t well?”

Oh, no.

“Wouldn’t we have heard about it? She’s the Oracle.” You looked around, but no one was paying any attention to your conversation. “He’s probably just busy. He said he’s learning how to heal physical illnesses and that it takes a lot of his energy.”

Luna nodded, a smile breaking out on her face. “You’re right.” She put an old rotary phone next to the fake plant. “I’m happy he has you to speak with now. Perhaps I should stop inquiring after him so much.”

“Nah, that’s, like, your job,” you said, picking up the old phone and putting it back. The paper said _modern slice of life_ and a rotary phone did _not_ fit. “Don’t younger siblings have the right to pester?”

“Oh, naturally.” She laughed lightly. “Ravus is the kind of person who will tell me to not be dramatic only to turn about and do something _more_ dramatic himself.”

You nodded with a growing smile. After what happened at the New Year's Ball, you couldn’t disagree. While the man wasn’t prone to dramatics often, when he wanted to be, he went hard.

—

_10 Signs He Isn’t Over You_

Obvious clickbait, and you fell for it, perusing the article while you waited for the ferry to get to Altissia. Next to you, Craigory had fallen asleep. His snores and the sound of the sea were all you heard for the longest time until someone near began to cheer. You closed the article — _pointless, you needed to stop hoping_ — and stood up to look at what the excitement was about.

The boat approached high cliffs jutting up from the water. You could see nothing else as you began to slowly weave between the tall landmasses. They cast shadows over the ferry, hiding you from the moon that hang large and white in the night sky. Oh, but then statues greeted you. They were gigantic, lining the entrance to a channel that you set off on immediately.

You passed columns upon spiraling columns, moving deeper into the craggy cliff sides that towered overhead. They opened up minutes later into a greater expanse of water within minutes, and there it was. Altissia.

Bright lights shining on the water, warm and yellow, had you grinning. You felt, for the first time in a very long time, like you knew what it meant to win.

—

Standing outside the Leville, you couldn’t stop taking in everything around you with extreme fascination. Altissia was exactly like the movies had shown you growing up. Romance was thick in the air, music on every corner, warm light illuminating everything around you on this late night. You were excited to see it in the daylight when more people would be out. The gondola rower had kissed your hand after helping you disembark. Everything about this place had you falling in love with it all over again, this time for real because you were finally _here_.

You spoke to the concierge in Altissian, and he chuckled, humoring you even though you were positive it was in his job description to speak several languages fluently, including Lucian. Craigory offered to share the bar in his room with you, so you spent the first hour downing shot-sized bottles and flipping through the foreign channels until you found porn.

Craigory was polite enough to take his pre-gaming to the bathroom so you wouldn’t be tempted to do the harder stuff. It was all too easy to down a handful of pills, you knew from experience. You turned down anything he did offer. If you were going to indulge in your vices, you wanted to stick to just one. Alcohol seemed the way to go. It wasn’t illegal, and you’d probably still have your clothes on in the morning.

Both of you left the hotel with sights set on letting loose. Tired from travel as you were, you knew sleep wasn’t going to come easy. You were too wound up and excited. You were in Altissia. Finally!

Finding yourself at a bar that was close enough you didn’t need a gondola ride, you and Craigory took the only empty space along the bar itself. You caught the attention of the bartender by waving your hand wildly and smiling in what you hoped was a friendly way and not the frantic, awkward way in which it felt.

“Do you think I should stick to virgins tonight?” you asked your friend. It was a serious question because you’d already gotten a little buzzed and wanted to be able to make it to the hotel in one piece. Craigory grinned and shrugged. He was right; it was your choice.

You went through non-alcoholic drinks, telling anyone and everyone about your movie that was going to show at the festival. All the talk attracted the attention of some people sitting at a large table in a corner of the bar. They, too, were there as participants for the film festival. You both joined their table, and when they ordered a celebratory round, you gave up the notion of being sober.

This was going to be your last stint before starting over. It was a promise you’d made to yourself. You just hadn’t… gotten around to it yet. The night continued in flashes, a conversation with a woman about bad movies, three shots taken in a row before you went back to the easier, watered down stuff that consisted of mostly fruit juice.

“Only virgins from now on!” You shouted, standing from your chair. The faces around the table twisted with laughter. The air in the bar was hot, humid enough to have loose strands of your hair sticking to your neck.

You knocked down a half empty glass of water as you climbed onto the table. Craigory sat directly across from you, egging you on with a clapping gesture that the others followed. You crawled across the smooth wooden tabletop, knocking things over to stop in the middle. You sat back on your knees, reveling in their rhythmic clapping.

“Everything changes tonight,” you announced, one of your index fingers hooking at the collar of your shirt. The button snapped loose, your hands making quick work of revealing your bra underneath. Sweet release, you thought as you felt the slightly cooler touch of air on your sweaty skin. It was _way_ too hot in there. A few of the bar patrons outside the realm of your table began to cheer. Face flush with both the temperature and the attention, you fanned yourself and grinned. “Tonight, my dudes, I—” You suddenly noticed someone sitting in the lower lounge area across the bar.

Someone tall, silver-haired, and broody.

“Fuck me,” you whined, scrambling to get off the table. How could he be there? You stepped down on wobbly footing, walking around the table to grab your bag. You couldn’t be here if he was here. Everyone was talking around you —maybe even at you, but you couldn’t be sure— and it felt suffocating all of a sudden. As you took money out of your bag and placed it on the table for your share of the drinks, you peered over your shoulder at the man across the bar. It _looked_ like Ravus, but your vision was cloudy so you weren’t sure you could trust it.

The man looked in your direction, and you quickly turned away, urging Craigory up with a hand. “Dude, let’s go.”

He sent you a confused look.

“Because! I…” Your mind stalled. What were you doing again?

One of the people at your table reached a hand out to touch the lace of your bra. They had a tattoo of a Naga swirling up their arm. Craigory knocked the hand away, standing up to lead you toward the exit.

You passed the man who looked like Ravus. The closer you got to him, the more your mind screeched at you that it _was_ him. But if Ravus was going to be in Altissia, he would’ve told you. At least you hoped so.

He’d been on your mind a lot since Luna had told you something had to be wrong with him. Small things like that brought light to the fact that you still didn’t know Ravus very well, apparently. He must’ve been on your mind more than you realized if your subconscious was bringing drunken visions up like this. You stared at him on your way past, eyes wide and searching. The image didn’t change; there was no moment where he spoke and the face became that of someone else, of the person who _actually_ sat there.

The person with the Naga tattoo had followed you, grabbing your hand and stopping you. Ahead of you, Craigory was unaware and kept making his way through the bodies in the bar toward the exit. You looked back at Naga Person, trying to pull your arm out of their grip, but things were… things were unbalanced. You couldn’t focus, and brought your free hand to your face.

“Let go of me.”

Naga Person said something, but you couldn’t understand. They began to tug you back toward the table, and it was as if you’d forgotten Altissian. You’d suddenly forgotten how to say anything beyond the word “Please”.

You felt a second grip on your other wrist. First to come to mind was Craigory, but you heard a deep, familiar voice bite out over your shoulder.

“Unhand her. Now.”

You looked at the vision of Ravus with surprise. Whoever this stranger actually was, you hoped they were trying to help you. He exchanged hard words in Altissian with your captor that you vaguely understood, but your drunk-addled mind couldn’t keep up. When Naga Person let you go, this weird Drunk Vision Ravus gave you a onceover. His features were hard to make out in the dim light of the bar, but— wow, your mind had even remembered which of his eyes was blue.

You gave him a sloppy smile, which he didn’t return. Instead, he let go of your wrist and said, “Button your shirt. It’s cold outside.”

With a slow nod, you brought shaky fingers to your top. It was a small struggle, but you were able to get your breasts covered by the time Craigory made a reappearance. You thanked Drunk Vision Ravus and followed your friend out of the bar. He’d been right; it was much colder out than it had been when you’d arrived.

When Craigory wanted to know where to go next, you were still replaying your thoughts of the Naga Person, the Ravus who most definitely couldn’t be the real Ravus, and the way he’d awkwardly watched you button yourself up. Ravus would _never_ have done that. He’d have kicked your ass for relapsing. He would’ve— You looked at your wrist, touching where the fake version of him had held it. A soreness ached in your chest. You really missed him. So much that you were starting to lose what little grip you had on reality, it seemed. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Either way, you sent Craigory a grin. “I have a great idea.”

—

Light was sharp. Sounds were sharp. The pain in your head— unimaginably so. You were surprised to wake up in your own hotel room. Craigory had fallen asleep on a settee by the large window that took up half a wall. You crawled off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, you undressed, treating the process carefully. Memories swam in your mind, but they were a blur.

A piece of gauze was taped to the inner wrist of your left hand. Biting pain burned beneath the bandage so you peeled it off last, taking it slowly. You hissed as your skin pulled with the fibers and tape, pausing halfway through to stare at the black design. Pulling the rest off with less patience, you tossed the gauze into the trash and stared at the tattoo inked into your skin.

The lines were angular and bold. With legs arched, mane flowing, and horn pointed skyward, a unicorn had been permanently marked onto your wrist. It looked very… proud. Probably because it was the unicorn from the Oracle’s crest. You groaned, sending yourself an irritated expression in the mirror before stepping into the shower. The entire process was delicate, your senses destroyed, your stomach twisting painfully, and your wrist burning under the flow of the water.

Thankfully, Craigory was gone when you left the bathroom. You threw yourself onto the large hotel bed, holding the towel tight around yourself and checking your phone. It was nearly dead because _of course_. You crawled to the end table to plug it in. With a nervous look at the reddened skin around the newest feature on your body, you typed out a message and left your phone to charge while you got dressed.

Putting on a shirt was an act that had you hissing everytime something came into contact with your wrist. When you looked somewhat decent, spending extra time on your hair and face because you still held the belief in looking better to feel better, you checked your phone for a reply.

 **_You:_ ** _How do you take care of a tattoo?_

 **_Gladio:_ ** _tell me you didnt_

 **_Gladio:_ ** _one night in Altissia and you already did something crazy_

 **_You:_ ** _Says the guy who has tattoos all over his body._

 **_Gladio:_ ** _ya well mine actually mean something_

 **_You:_ ** _Do they mean you’re unhelpful? It hurts a lot._

 **_Gladio:_ ** _keep it out of the sun, cover it loosely if you gotta_

 **_Gladio:_ ** _if it swells, ice it, common sense_

 **_Gladio:_ ** _tell me its on your ass, juicy_

 **_You:_ ** _Yep, and it’s of your face._

There wouldn’t be a point in telling him not to tell anyone. He was probably already telling Prompto. It wasn’t so much embarrassing as it was infuriating. If you’ve ever felt a greater urge to stop drinking altogether, you don’t recall it. Bringing up the sobriety counter on your phone, you restarted from day one.

You were going to stick it through this time. 

—

Waiting in the Leville’s lobby for your friend, you wasted time returning to that _10 Signs He Isn’t Over You_ article you’d left up in your phone’s browser. You were on number five: _His friends try to convince you to talk to him._ That sounded familiar. You snorted, letting a bit of hope swell even though you knew it was stupid. While you skimmed the next point on the list, you heard a voice that gave you pause.

“Don’t be asinine.”

With a quick intake of breath, you gazed about the lobby to find the source of the voice. Your phone dropped into your lap, the sleeve of your shirt stinging the sore skin of your wrist. You endured, keeping it covered because Ravus Nox Fleuret was now standing in the lobby with you. He _was_ in Altissia. Your phone fell from your lap and clattered on the floor when you jerked up from your seat. You bent to pick it up, your mind still recovering from the hangover, and tried to gather your thoughts into a reasonable order.

Righting yourself had you meeting Ravus’ gaze from across the room. You kept the stare, worrying your bottom lip. Had that… It hadn’t been, right? Ravus didn’t frequent bars, so it couldn’t have been him the night before. You’d been wasted. Your mind played tricks on you sometimes, but it would be _just_ your luck that the one time you actually thought an emotionally charged, inebriation-related hallucination was the real thing.

Which meant Ravus knew.

He broke the gaze first, saying something quietly to the squire, who stood next to him. She nodded and walked off, leaving the lobby to go farther into the hotel. Then, he walked to one of the armchairs clear on the other side of the large space, sitting down and picking up a newspaper. You stood there and waited for him to look your way again, to nod in greeting, anything! But he kept his focus on the paper in his hands.

With budding annoyance, you crossed the lobby. “Hey,” you said lamely, stopping a couple of steps away from him.

He looked up, sending you a blank stare over the paper. “Hello.”

You sat in another chair nearby, facing him. “How are you?” It wasn’t a very original ice breaker, but you actually wanted to know.

He gazed at you carefully. “A better question would be why are you here?”

You rose a brow, leaning back and settling comfortably into the chair. “My film is showing at a festival this weekend. What about you?”

He folded the newspaper closed before answering. “I’m here for meetings at the embassy on behalf of the Oracle.”

That made sense, you supposed. Luna had known you were going to Altissia. She could’ve told you Ravus would be there, too. It was a pleasant surprise, getting this chance to see him in person after months apart. If only your head wasn’t pounding or your thoughts racing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?” You were just making small talk at this point, avoiding actual conversation.

Ravus pursed his lips, eyes never leaving yours. “I could say the same of you, ma crevette.”

The nickname made your expression soften. You hadn’t even realized how tense you’d become. You opened your mouth to say something similar, to drag out the small talk for a bit longer. Instead you said, “I’m sorry.”

It was a blanket apology. For not telling him you’d relapsed, for not telling him about the festival, for keeping him out in general. You’d kept in touch since Ignis’ birthday, but you’d wanted to retain some sort of distance to, at the very least, keep yourself from thinking about what had happened at the ball. Aside from that, you’d gotten the increasing feeling that you were boring him since his email responses kept growing more and more curt.

He shook his head, and you couldn’t be sure what it meant. Was he telling you not to apologize because you didn’t need to or because it wasn’t enough?

You saw Craigory walk into the lobby and hopped up from the chair to catch his attention with a wave. Fighting everything in your mind that told you it was a terrible idea and a waste of time, you looked at Ravus. “If you’re not super busy tonight, would you wanna get dinner? I thought you’d probably know the good places around here.”

Ravus’ gaze left you to scan the room for a moment. Just as you thought about backtracking and retreating, he met your eyes again. “If I can spare the time, I’ll let you know once I’ve left the embassy.”

Relief hit you harder than you could’ve expected, and you smiled at him. “Awesome. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later.”

His frown eased, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Perhaps.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said, pointing at him. You could feel the familiar affection budding in you at the way his brows drew together. “I’m taking that as a promise. See you tonight.”

His frown was back, and he watched you leave with an annoyed expression on his face.

—

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Leviathan Monument. 6pm._

Despite the suggestion of your peers before the trip, neither you nor Craigory had packed anything fancy to wear. The festival itself was comprised of climate controlled tents spread out among an empty strip of unused farmland that was only accessible by gondola. You’d read online that it was usually pretty muddy because the water would rise too high at random times with little notice. Which turned out to be accurate. You slogged through the thick of it between tents, watching movies made by other teams of students from all over Eos. 

Because of this, you met Ravus in the Leviathan Square with dirty boots and a pair of overalls that undoubtedly made you look like an unoriginal flower child that was trying far too hard to pin down authentic farmer chic.

Ravus, to his credit, said nothing. 

The restaurant he took you to was only accessible by a certain gondola line. Like everything in Altissia, the atmosphere was overwhelmingly romantic. The low lighting and gentle notes of music in the air made you a little uncomfortable, but Ravus was entirely unbothered.

“How are you enjoying the city?”

You picked up your fork, then put it down again, tapping your fingers on the table as you looked around the place. It was a lot to take in. The entire city was so much, you were constantly in awe.

Giving Ravus a smile, you settled your hand on the glass of water that had been placed in front of you. “I’m kinda overwhelmed but in a good way.”

There was something off about him. You thought it was probably whatever meetings he was attending at the embassy stressing him out, but you didn’t know Ravus to get stressed. He seemed to always be on the edge of irritation, never quite reaching his breaking point. Something important must’ve brought him to Altissia for the meetings if it was bringing this out in him. Maybe Luna had a reason to be concerned about his radio silence.

Slightly dark circles framed his eyes that weren’t there just that morning, and his frown wasn’t as sharp as you were used to. Even his voice seemed softer than usual, his tone not as clipped. He was stressed and maybe kind of tired. You thought he might should’ve went to bed rather than meeting with you, but you were already here, and you were selfish.

“I hope your festival is going well. Is it a competitive event?” He asked with a small rise of his brow, open interest on his face. He sounded so oddly caring like this. It was weird, and you hoped he cut it out and got some sleep soon.

“It kind of is, but it’s not cutthroat or anything. I mean, someone’s movie will get to play in a few theaters for the general public if its chosen.”

“And that’s… something you want?”

You shrugged. “I guess. We made it for people to watch. I mean, we could put it on the internet, but it means more when people actually show up to see it.”

He nodded slowly, but no words seemed forthcoming.

To save yourself from an awkward silence, you asked, “What kinda movies do you like, anyway?”

You couldn’t believe you hadn’t already asked him this. It was a question you usually asked pretty early in knowing someone. Then again, Ravus wasn’t exactly the most open person, and your entire friendship had begun under pretty taxing circumstances as it was.

You would spend entire days in silence with each other or you’d talk his ear off about things from how ridiculous you thought his Oracle robes were to what you planned to get Prompto for his next birthday. His kind of sharing went as far as his opinion on your behavior at any given moment. You were excited to see if he’d open up now that you’d grown close enough.

He looked you dead in the eye as a server carefully placed your meals in front of you. “I don’t watch films.”

You were immediately taken aback. Appalled. Utterly shocked. You gave him a look of incredulity. “None? Like never?”

“No.”

He began to eat, but you were still reeling. Who didn’t watch movies? You knew he lived in a magical place, seemingly forgotten by time and technology, but it was far from living under a rock.

“Why not?”

Chewing slowly, he seemed to think. It gave you time to actually dig into your own meal, though you kept scrutinizing eyes focused on him.

“Lack of time and interest.”

You almost choked on your food. Lack of time, you understood since he was a prince and an Oracle in training. Lack of interest wasn’t something you were going to abide by, though. Movies were the apex of entertainment for you, though video games came in as a very close second.

“So you’ve never seen a movie before,” you asked him, completely deadpan.

He rolled his eyes, a slight scowl crossing his face. There he was. That was more like the Ravus you knew and loved. “I’ve _seen_ them. I don’t actively seek them out as they’re generally a waste of time.”

You faltered at that. There had been a small hope of an idea, something that had come to you at a point in the day between turning down an offer of edibles from Craigory —that silent son of a bitch was becoming your own personal daemon— and getting one of your boots stuck in the mud for ten minutes. You needed a buffer between yourself and Craigory. Preferably one with enough strength to get you out of sticky situations like especially deep mud holes.

It had been a vain hope because Ravus probably had actual important things going on at the embassy. You’d wanted to invite him, just for a day, to the festival to see your film. Because you were proud of it and wanted to show off your hard work. He would’ve needed a pass to get into the festival, but he’s _royalty_ so… You hadn’t thought too deeply about it.

Not that it mattered. Apparently Ravus thought movies were a waste of time. Which meant he thought the same of all your studies and your entire profession. That would’ve been nice to know that time you’d explained in detail what it meant to be a director of photography on a film set. He hadn’t seemed all that invested, but he’d given a “hmm” and “oh?” at all the right moments so you’d thought that _maybe_ he’d found some of it interesting.

“I wouldn’t mind viewing your film,” he spoke up, drawing you from your reverie. “I hope it wins so that I may, should it make it to Tenebrae.”

Dropping your bite of food back onto your plate, you stabbed at it with mild excitement. It was like he’d been reading your thoughts. “Actually, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come with me to the festival tomorrow. That’s when it’s showing. The runtime is only an hour, and the gondola to get there stops right outside the Leville and everything.”

Sharp eyes looked down at his food for a moment, his eating slowing to a stop. When he gazed at you again, you were chewing through a large bite that you’d stuffed into your mouth a little too late to stop yourself from spilling out your invite to him.

“What time would I need to meet you?”

You choked on the bite of food, washing it down with water, surprise written all over your expression. “Around noon.”

He seemed to consider that, returning to his dinner. You ate in companionable silence for a while, a reminder that quiet moments between the two of you had never really been awkward, even now.

“I’ll let you know if I have the spare time,” he finally said, and you found yourself getting your hopes up all over again.

—

Altissia was just as alive at night as it was during the day. You passed street performers playing soft music on you way back to the hotel with Ravus.

“They’re like moving pictures that tell stories,” you said, grinning at him as he glared back. “You read books all the time. You’ve seen pictures. Just imagine that but they move and it lasts for—”

“I told you I’ve seen films before. I don’t understand your shock.” He stopped near a canal, close to a place where a gondola would soon arrive. “Must you be such a pest on our first outing?”

You peered down at your rippled reflection on the surface of the water. “I dunno what else you expect, papa-gâteau. A miracle?”

His reflection looked at yours, and you lifted your gaze to meet his. He seemed keen to give you quiet glances all night, most of which weren’t the looks of annoyance you were used to. His expression now revealed mild interest, and you only knew how to read that much from his face because it had been an everyday occurrence for so long.

You could probably get paid to be a facial expression translator specifically for Ravus, being one of the very few with that capability. All you’d need to do would be to confirm which of his two emotions he was conveying. Anger, which contained a full spectrum from unamused to furious, or interest, which was always mild and short lived.

“I’m never not gonna be a pest,” you said, giving him another grin. You didn’t like those little looks he gave. It made you wonder if he’d always been giving them to you, but you’d only thought to pay attention to it _now_.

The gondola appeared around a corner of the canal, stopping a short distance from where you stood. You climbed in first, leaning over the edge to touch the water when he joined.

“ _Excuse my friend. She is rather slow,_ ” Ravus said to the gondolier.

You jerked your hand up, grin becoming a quick frown. “ _Remember, I know Altissian, too. Slut._ ”

The gondola was pushed off, moving down the canal as Ravus blinked once in surprise.

“Excuse me?”

You shrugged, letting your eyes roam the city around you. “It’s the only insult I know.”

Ravus sighed. “Unsurprising.”

You sent him a finger gun. “I know what I’m about.”

The boat ride through the city was smooth, one interesting sight after another. Every time you passed by an area you’d already seen, you noticed something new. You loved this city and finally being here felt surreal even now. After disembarking, while Ravus was doing the polite thing by tipping the gondolier, you rushed toward a small hole in the wall joint that sold gelato.

“Over here!” You called, waving an arm as if he might lose sight of you even though there were barely a few meters between you.

He seemed reluctant to follow, but did so anyway, giving the person standing at the open window a wary look. You ordered a large and needed two hands to hold the cone. Thankfully, he turned down your offer for a taste, instead filling the air with comments about things he thought you should experience while visiting. You took all of his suggestions with a grain of salt since his idea of fun differed from yours.

You were stopped on your walk by a street artist who Ravus rudely blew off when she offered to draw you both. When you tried to convince him to go back because _holy shit, yes_ , he was having none of it, picking up his pace back toward the hotel.

It was as you walked through the grand entrance that a question left him in a hard, quiet voice that didn’t fit with the tone of your evening so far. “How are you and… your unfortunately named companion?”

Not even halfway finished with your gelato, you lowered the cone a little to frown at him. “Who?”

He stopped in the lobby. The solid marble at your feet reflected the low lighting. “Spare me the coy act, ma crevette.”

You shook your head. Did he mean _Throbert_? You would hardly call him a companion. “We’re okay, but it’s not gonna last much longer. I know what I said in the last email, but I dunno. Everybody kinda hates him.”

Ravus didn’t seem to understand. His brows drew together for a moment before his expression evened into something altogether hard to read. Great. Just when you were confident you were the best at reading him.

“Speaking of emails,” he began, seeming to think on the subject for a second. “Is this your way of heeding what I’d said in my first correspondence to you?”

Not understanding what _he_ was getting at, you let your eyes wander around the lobby as you worked on your gelato. You were losing your appetite, though, if you were honest. The chandelier above was dimmed, the charming decor surrounding you with a feeling of refined comfort. The concierge smiled when your eyes met theirs, and you quickly looked away, facing Ravus again.

“What do you mean? Heeding what?”

With a sigh, Ravus returned to walking across the lobby. “Forget it,” he said as you scrambled to follow him. “I see now that it’s best left alone.”

You followed him into an elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor as he pressed the eleventh. A bellboy came in after you, someone’s suitcase in his arm. His presence made the conversation come to a close, though you were pretty damn confused about the topic anyway.

When the elevator chimed on your floor, you walked out with a look over your shoulder. “Tomorrow, noon?”

Ravus peered down at you. “No promises.”

“Let me know!” you said quickly as the doors closed again. He had better not leave you hanging. If he couldn’t make it because of super important meetings, you’d totally understand. But he had a responsibility, as your friend, to not stand you up.

You looked both ways down the hotel corridors, gelato in hand as you walked in the direction of your room. You passed Craigory on your way, handing him the dessert before going inside. He accepted without complaint or question, but you recognized his curious look at where you’d been.

The question that was on your mind was where you were _going_.

—

Half an hour before noon, you stopped by the gondola closest to the Leville and waited for Ravus. You expected to see him look a little irritated, maybe even give you a lovely scowl in greeting when he arrived. Instead, you were shocked into silence as he approached, a quarter of an hour later, in casual clothes and uncharacteristic but fitting wayfarer sunglasses. He’d even pulled his hair back, although it looked pretty messy.

No scowl, but you were given a frown, which was comforting in a way.

“I hope I won’t require any form of identification,” he said, touching the shades while looking around. He’d hate it if he knew how much he was reminding you of an incognito Noctis right then.

Words just weren’t coming to you so you shrugged and turned away to get into the gondola. Your mind was working through thoughts so quickly, it couldn’t have been good for your brain. Ravus was wearing a t-shirt. It looked soft, and it hugged all the best parts of him, and you were completely disgusted with yourself at all of the feelings that had immediately appeared at the sight of it.

He faced you in the gondola like he had last time, none the wiser to your inner peril over the fact that his _muscular as fuck_ arms were right out there in the open for everyone to see and enjoy, especially you. He crossed his legs, resting an elbow on his knee as he looked at you thoughtfully. His bicep pulled the sleeve of the shirt tight, making you swallow.

You’d been well aware of what kind of body he had hidden beneath his layers of Oracle robes because of how much time he’d spent in the training rooms when you’d lived in the manor. Seeing it up close and in person was different, though. You felt a blush burn at your cheeks involuntarily and looked away from him to appreciate the passing scenery instead.

You _weren’t_ going through this again. Meeting a man who seemed impossible to get close to, inexplicably becoming his friend, and finding out how attractive he was once he’s out of his usual getup. The next step, based on personal experience, was to ruin his life as much as possible. It wasn’t happening.

You were reassured, at least in some small way, by the fact that your thoughts and actions were no longer ruled by lust. In fact, that you even thought for a moment that you could land someone like Ravus was laughable. You self deprecated yourself inwardly at the very idea.

The boat ride to the festival was calm and uneventful, for which you were glad. That was until the gondolier began to sing. And, oh did he sing. The sun bared down on you as the boat left the shadows of the city, slowly crossing deeper waters for the small island where the festival was being held. The gondolier’s deep, melodic voice rang through the air, sounding as if it were coming upward from somewhere deep in his gut. Or maybe his heart.

Astrals, you needed to get a hold of yourself.

You spared Ravus a glance, the first of which since you’d noticed his nice arms, and found him looking out at the water. He appeared contemplative, not at all bothered by the singing like you were. Following his gaze, you watched it shimmer in the sunlight, only the smallest of waves lapping at the boat.

Thankfully, the one man opera that the gondolier had begun for you without solicitation ended when you arrived to the small port on the island. You disembarked first, stretching your legs and getting out a few gil for the man. As much as you hadn’t appreciated that extra bit of discomfort by way of romantic music, he had a set of pipes on him and deserved _something_.

You thanked him and Ravus gave you a curious look at the exchange. You brushed it off as the prince either wanting to tip the man himself or not wanting to tip him at all. It was your money, though, and you were going to do whatever you wanted. 

—

Getting through the entrance of the festival was easy. Apparently they didn’t need your ID if you were a tall, well-built gentleman with incredible facial structure. They hadn’t even asked Ravus to take off his sunglasses so they could see his face better. They didn’t even care to know his full name. They probably thought he was one of the actors.

You kept an eye out for Craigory or any of the people you’d met at the bar on the first night. Ravus followed at your side, listening as you explained where everything was and, when he finally asked, _why_ everything was. 

“Well,” you said, stopping outside one of the largest tents —these were always for viewings— that was currently blocked off because all of the seats inside were taken. “It makes people happy? It’s not much different than reading.”

He made an irritated noise, almost like clearing his throat. “I’m not asking why everyone here makes films. I want to know why anyone would think a tent an appropriate place for a restroom.”

You looked up at him slowly, then smiled. “I dunno. They’re not that bad.”

He didn’t answer or appear very appeased by your statement, and you hoped he didn’t find something to complain about at every turn because he was meant to be there for fun. And to keep you from being tempted to do something reckless. But mostly for fun!

—

Naga Person —arguably the most attractive person you’d met at that bar the first night— found both of you inside the tent that held the food. Ravus complained a lot less when he realized every tent was climate controlled and a lot nicer on the inside than the outside suggested. So far you’d had to ward off seven people who hit on him, three of which had approached in this tent alone.

You expected Naga Person to do something similar. After all, beautiful people seemed to draw together rather quickly, and if you were being honest, you felt you weren’t in league with anyone in attendance. Even though you knew Ravus’ personality was so difficult, it negated how attractive he was.

“Hey,” Naga Person greeted, turning their lovely smile to Ravus. “I didn’t realize you had come together. Just wanted to apologize about the other night.”

You chewed on a piece of baguette and watched him avoid shaking their hand, only offering a nod as they tried to apologize. Typical.

You told them it was okay so they’d go away. It seemed best to keep people away from Ravus lest he decide he didn’t want to stick around for your viewing. It had been postponed to an undetermined time because someone famous had arrived earlier in the day and had claimed that viewing tent as their own personal hotspot.

Taking the food outside, you found an unoccupied picnic table along a tent and sat to watch everything that kept going on around you. People never stopped moving in this profession. You hoped you could keep up. As Ravus took a seat next to you, he withdrew a cigarette from a holder he took from a pocket. You rose a brow, curious because you’d only ever seen him smoke once before. The day you’d met him.

Rather than pointing it out, for now, you sat quietly and observed the people at work. The famous person who’d hijacked your viewing tent stepped outside to take a call. You stamped down on the excitement of seeing him so close, sending a side glance at Ravus.

“That guy starred in the three biggest rom-coms last year. I can’t believe he’s even here.”

Ravus couldn’t look less interested. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you said, picking at your food. “I read that he wants to be an action star, but his face is too pretty.”

He hummed, not really giving the conversation any input.

With a small bit of annoyance, you took the cigarette from him, quickly testing it. Purely awful in taste, it went through you smoothly only because of your experience with similar substances. He snatched it back amidst your second drag, and you did cough that time. You covered your mouth with a hand, grimacing at him.

“You have enough bad habits,” he said, closing his eyes and drawing from it.

Eating a piece of fruit from your plate to get rid of the taste of it in your mouth, you tilted your head. “Why didn’t you ever smoke in Tenebrae? Afraid to get in trouble with your mom?”

He pursed his lips, apparently unimpressed by your assumption. “I only need it in times of great stress.”

That seemed fair. You couldn’t tell because of the wayfarers over his eyes, but he did appear more rested today than he had the night before. After wiping your hand on the leg of your jeans, you reached up and pulled the shades from his face. You were careful not to pull his hair, smiling when you could see his eyes. They were focused on yours, lingering there before flicking downward and narrowing at your wrist.

You folded the sunglasses and put them on the table, then tugged your sleeve over your wrist to cover the tender skin of your tattoo. He didn’t say anything, eyes meeting yours again. Hopefully, he’d only caught a glimpse of what it was. He was the _last_ person you wanted to see it.

Intent on changing the subject before it could even come up, you looked at the famous actor again. You were pleasantly surprised to see his rumored lover step out of the tent next to interrupt his phone call. This was more exciting for you because she was someone you actually admired.

“Ravus,” you said, attention snapping to him. “That woman is amazing.”

His eyes trailed from you to the actress who stood across the muddy lawn that separated your tents. He didn’t say anything, looking down to snuff out his cigarette and put the butt on your plate. So fucking rude.

“She’s in this great movie where she plays a pornstar who never gets to see her kids. It almost made me cry, and I _never_ cry at movies,” you rambled. “She has this fully nude scene— Well, not _fully_ nude, she wore a merkin, but it was close enough, I uh… what?”

Ravus looked perplexed. “She wore a what?”

“A crotch wig,” you said with a small laugh.

“What’s the purpose?”

You shrugged, a touch of affection filling you at his show of interest. “Most people wax it these days. It’s to keep the privates private. Obviously.”

A silence followed. You pushed your plate aside to rest an elbow on the table, your chin in hand. Ravus wouldn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to gaze about the area.

“Are you wondering if _I_ wax?” You knew better than to ask, but the way he looked away, the barest dust of pink on his face, made you feel like whatever nasty words he might’ve had were worth it. “If you wanna know, papa-gateau, I’ll tell you. I can even—”

“Enough,” he said quietly, standing up with a stretch. He picked up your plate and walked back into the food tent.

You laughed to yourself, overcome with an electric feeling that consumed you and reached deep, deep into your chest. It was easy to identify because you’d spent so much time searching for a name to the feeling. You’d already known you loved Ravus. As a friend, of course. With the bitchy look he gave and the way he crossed his arms once he reappeared in the tent’s entrance, how could you not?

—

When it came time to watch your film, the sky had decided to open up with a very sudden, incredibly heavy rain. You were apparently one of the last to be told of your movie’s new show time, so you had to amble quickly to get there before it started. Crossing through a precariously muddy spot —why they chose to hold the festival here, you would never understand— you nearly fell, the mud pulling at your boots ever harder with each step. You’d tied them on very securely for this reason so you felt like you might actually lose a foot instead.

Ravus, fulfilling one of his unspoken purposes, wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting and holding you to his side as he made the trek through the slog. He put you on solid ground a moment later. Flustered at his helpfulness, you felt pink dust your cheeks and fumbled between a thanks and some indignance at him assuming you couldn’t make it through yourself. You totally could’ve; it might’ve taken a bit longer, that was all.

He brushed stray strands of hair out of your face, the tips of his fingers tracing your jaw down to your chin before falling away. That was more touching than necessary and completely weird for him. You felt your chest tighten at his unexpected caresses but fought the feeling.

“These grounds are rather unaccommodating,” he said, low enough that the people around you couldn’t hear. “I understand your attire now.”

He’d definitely noticed your hyper casual outfits so far because he was wearing boots himself. Nicer, probably sturdier ones, but still. You looked down at them for a second, then your eyes peeled upward. The rise and fall of his chest was visible from the way his wet shirt clung to every muscle on his torso.

“We should probably dry off sometime soon,” you said, forcing your eyes farther upward to meet his. He’d put away the sunglasses after the rain began, but it wasn’t as if his regular expression was easy to read anyway. You doubted anyone here would recognize him unless they were specifically searching.

You lifted a hand, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. It made a wet noise as it left his skin, and he stopped you by prying your hand away and holding it still.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” you said, wiggling your fingers in his loose grip.

Once in the tent, you were sat at the head of the audience with Craigory. Ravus refused, taking a place further back, which irritated you to no end. As the opening credits began, you looked over your shoulder to give him a dirty look. You couldn’t blame him for not wanting to draw attention, but at the same time— you’d specifically invited him here to watch this damn thing.

In your search for him, you were startled to see a familiar face in the audience. Familiar but strangely wrong. Prompto sat three rows back, his attention on the movie screen. Why was he here, and _why_ hadn’t he told you he was coming? You’d thought he was camping with Gladio this weekend. He’d certainly complained about it enough. What had all the _this is what I do for love_ speeches been about while you both packed just days ago?

You spent the entire movie distracted by this. Instead of going after Ravus, you sought out Prompto to ask him just what his problem was. The closer you got to him, the more you realized something further was off. Had he gotten a haircut before coming? You wouldn’t put it past him. That sweet idiot had actually surprised you by showing up to watch your movie; you were torn between irritation and happiness.

When you stopped in front of him, he didn’t react like you expected with a “Hey!” and a hug. He gave you a confused, reserved look, then held out a hand to shake. “Hello.”

The voice was right, but the accent was every bit wrong. You couldn’t place it or the little scar on his chin that you hadn’t noticed until you were this close. “Prompto?”

Only growing more confused, it seemed, he lowered his hand and repeated after you, “Prompto?”

Looking around, you wondered briefly if this was some sort of trick. This was Prompto. He had the face, down to every last freckle on his nose. Everything else was weird and foreign, though.

Ravus pushed past a group of people to stop next to you. “I hadn’t been aware Argentum was present.”

Prompto— no, this wasn’t Prompto. This was someone who looked eerily like your best friend, but it _wasn’t_ him. He looked at Ravus, extending his confusion to the new addition to this awkward exchange.

You held out your hand, the situation feeling unreal as you introduced yourself. “I wrote the film. How’d you like it?”

His eyes lit up in realization, a smile crossing his face. It was a little lopsided, just like Prompto’s. You tried not to frown at it uncomfortably. When he gave you his name, you couldn’t quite process it, your mind already dubbing him Fake Prompto. You almost felt like this could be some elaborate and cruel ruse that your friends were doing just to baffle you.

Ravus was quiet as you spoke with each other, offering no input. You exchanged information with Fake Prompto, most bewildered by the tattoo he had on his wrist that perfectly matched Prompto’s. Either your best friend had become the world’s greatest actor, or you had something very big you needed to tell him. As you watched the guy leave the now deserted tent, you wondered just what that would be.

He had… a long lost relative?

You didn’t have proof of anything, only what you’d seen during your exchange and a personal card with his name and information on it. The only hint you had that it wasn’t just a coincidence was the tattoo, as if you didn’t already have enough worrying thoughts about tattoos on your brain recently.

Thankful that Ravus wasn’t up to asking questions, you took the gondola back together in silence. You weren’t able to take it all the way back to the hotel because of a parade that had the main canal blocked off for the rest of the day. Not one to complain since you _were_ in your favorite place on the planet, you found yourself in an unfamiliar part of the city with nothing left but time to kill.

“I’m gonna take my time,” you told Ravus. A shop nearby looked like it sold trinkets. You saw a golden hourglass attached to a braided chain that you thought you could spare your extra gil on. “Go ahead without me, if you want.”

You haggled with the shopkeeper over the hourglass, buying it for more than it was worth, probably, but not as much as he’d originally asked for it. It wasn’t until you were struggling to clasp the chain around your neck that you noticed Ravus hadn’t left. The sight of him standing there idly, hair down and clothes still wet, had you grinning.

“Would you help me?” you asked, motioning with the necklace. You probably wouldn’t wear it outside of this visit to Altissia so you needed to get your money’s worth now.

He walked around you, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingertips touched your nape softly when he connected the ends of the chain together, sending a light shiver down your back. He didn’t move for a moment afterward. You looked over your shoulder to thank him, pausing when you caught the return of a slight blush to his face. Gods, it was weird.

“Are you getting sick?” you asked, becoming genuinely concerned. You hadn’t done anything to pester such a reaction out of him that time. Maybe being out in the sun and rain wasn’t so great for people who lived in the mountains and stayed inside a castle all the time like he did.

He shook his head, not deigning to give an answer or completely meet your eyes. Whatever was wrong, you hoped he got better soon. Stress, the climate, whatever the hidden issue was.

—

Based on the chatter of the Altissian residents you passed, the parade was an annual event, larger than other parades but smaller than the massive Moogle Chocobo Carnival held later in the year. You didn’t understand what it was celebrating, a holiday that didn’t have a direct translation into Lucian, but it seemed fun. What luck for you to have arrived on the weekend it was happening.

You wandered with purpose, walking behind the crowds that lined the canal where the parade proceeded. You couldn’t see anything, but balloons and music filled the air, which was lively enough to spur your thoughtful mood. Damp and unamused by it all, Ravus followed behind you.

“What did you think?” you asked, looking back at him. “Of my movie, I mean.”

“It was acceptable,” he said noncommittally.

“That’s all?” You huffed with a small laugh, facing forward again. You couldn’t take offense. Ravus didn’t even know what he was talking about; he hated movies. “I took you there to watch it, and you just think it’s _acceptable_?”

A loud, rippling string of crackling sounds burst in front of you. With a jump, you backed away from it and into Ravus. Children ran a circle around you and passed, throwing more down with another assault of ear-splitting popping sounds. Simple fireworks. With the ground still wet, you were surprised they worked at all.

Turning on Ravus, you looked up at him and laughed at yourself for getting startled so easily. His gaze was on the rambunctious group of children, though. You took hold of his hand, leading him past them before he said something far too candid and mean. To your luck there was a bridge ahead that arched over the canal. It was full of people, but you were able to secure a spot along the refined stone railing to watch the parade.

People shoved at you left and right, expected of such excitement as a few performers on the passing gondolas threw confetti, treats, and trinkets up toward you. Ravus boxed you in with his arms, placing hands on the railing on either side of you. It kept you from being overwhelmed, but the press of his chest at your back was too distracting. You weren’t able to catch any of the things being thrown.

When you jumped a little in attempt to get _anything_ , you felt the hand of a parade viewer next to you slap against your chest, a momentary cutting feeling snapping at the back of your neck. You fumbled for your new necklace as it began to fall, smacking against the stone of the railing.

You felt Ravus lean over you, pressing you into the stone for a second as he reached and caught the hourglass in time before it fell into a parade gondola or, more likely, the canal. He handed it to you as he backed away, returning to keeping you covered from both sides. You appreciated that he didn’t want you to have another panic attack. Probably because he never knew how to deal with them.

The rest of the parade passed that way in a resounding dissonance of cheer beneath and around you. As the bridge cleared, the last of the gondolas long passed, you put a hand on one of Ravus’. He reacted the way you expected, pulling it away and backing off from you.

From there, the walk back to the hotel was uneventful. He shook confetti from his hair, raking fingers through it in motions to keep it swept back. The events of the day were leaving you introspective so you watched him without comment. You parted ways in the elevator, a silent exchange of nods, a smile on your part.

In the solace of your room, you stripped all of the damp clothing off and took the hottest shower you could manage, keeping your healing wrist out of the flow of water as much as possible. You wanted to call Prompto. There was so much to tell him. Small things, like the way you’d felt so safe on the bridge with Ravus. Huge things, like his twin or _whoever_ that was you’d met at the festival. You sat on your bed after getting dressed and stared at the card he’d given you.

Digging into your bag, you found a notebook and the pen you always carried and began to write down your deliberations on this matter. Your thoughts about Ravus fell to the wayside for a while, resurfacing every time you looked at your wrist. You hated the look of it. Not because it was badly done or due to any hatred of tattoos. You didn’t like it because you couldn’t explain it, not to yourself or to anyone who’d ask just _why_ you’d chosen to put _that_ on yourself.

No. You needed to think things over one issue at a time. First, Prompto’s lookalike.

Throwing a large sweater over yourself to cover the tattoo, you dialed Ravus. He answered after five rings. “What?”

You ignored his blunt lack of an actual greeting. “What room are you in? I’m coming up.” As you slipped on your shoes, you heard him sigh.

“Is this about my not enjoying your film?”

You put the keycard to your room into a pocket and picked up your notebook and pen. “No, you just don’t appreciate art. It’s about that guy who looked like Prompto.”

—

Ravus was staying in a large suite on the uppermost floor of the hotel. As much as you wanted to take in the lavish space, you spared a sarcastic comment on how swanky everything was as he led you to a seating area. It was as large as the entire room you were staying in downstairs.

He sat next to you on the sofa, giving your messy notes a wary glance. You tapped the end of the pen against your chin as you thought. The motion slowed when Ravus began to stare at it. Lowering the pen to the notebook, you dropped it between the pages, daring him to comment on it.

So what if you were still holding onto the courtship token you’d made for Ignis? It wasn’t like it didn’t have its uses. You’d been smart to get something practical, even if you’d never gotten the chance to give it to Ignis.

To your surprise, Ravus looked away. “Can you even be sure there is any connection?”

Relieved that he didn’t feel like hassling you, you lifted the notebook to list your very clear points. “They look exactly the same. Same hair color. Same face. Same everything.”

“In all likelihood, there is a person who looks remarkably similar to you or even myself,” Ravus said rolling his eyes. “The world is a vast place.”

“Okay.” You nodded to concede his point, but dropped the notebook in his lap to poke a finger on a sentence you’d written down. “They have the same tattoo. That barcode thing. It’s in the same exact place on both of them. How can you explain that?”

Ravus tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “Ma crevette… I’m not certain it’s your secret to reveal.”

You tapped him with the pen, hitting his chest. He righted himself and gave you a frown.

“Prompto deserves to know,” you said, forcefully jabbing at him with the pen some more. He tore it from your grip, holding it out of reach. You substituted the pen for your finger, poking him in the chest. “He’s always wondered about that tattoo, and he deserves to know that there could be an answer out there.”

Tossing the pen carelessly to the coffee table in front of you, Ravus grabbed your hand with one of his and used his other to pull the sleeve of your sweater up to your elbow in one quick motion. You hissed in pain at the sleeve passing over the skin of your wrist, trying and failing to jerk your hand out of his grasp.

“Why don’t we discuss this one instead?” He lifted your wrist to look at it with care. “Are you maintaining it properly?”

You stopped trying to pull at your hand, more likely to dislocate it than actually free yourself. Ravus was too strong, his grip too vicelike. Your voice came out defensive. “ _Yeah._ It’s not hard as long as nothing touches it.”

Ravus looked from it to your face. “It looks fresh.”

You felt a sense of embarrassment return to you, heavy in your chest. “I got it that first night in the city.”

Returning his attention to the tattoo, he almost touched it with the index finger of his free hand. He traced the finger along your skin near the design instead, avoiding direct touch. “That night I found you in a drunken disarray, carousing about having virgins.”

The shame in you burned hotter, warming your face uncomfortably. “Why aren’t you mad at me?” you asked, voicing something you’d wondered from the moment you’d realized he was in Altissia. “For relapsing, I mean.”

“Recovery isn’t a permanent state of being well,” he said, letting go of your wrist and meeting your eyes again. “I find no point in reprimanding you, though I don’t like that your friend enables this behavior. Do the others know?”

You shook your head, drawing your hand back to your own lap. “No, but it doesn’t matter. I started over again. No more from now on.”

“So you say,” he said, eyes searching your face carefully. “Interesting choice for a tattoo. I suppose it’ll serve as a reminder for yourself.”

That wasn’t at all the thought process you’d had over the damn thing, but you were more than happy to let him assume that much. If anything, it actually _could_ be a good reminder of the promise you were making yourself. It was better than admitting you’d gotten the tattoo because you’d really missed him and idiotically thought this would be a good way to bring yourself closer.

“In any case,” he said, standing up to stretch. “About Argentum. That is your call to make. Whether you inform him or not… don’t bother me with it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding to his following offer of tea. As he walked into an adjoining room, you checked the time on your phone. With a slow blink, you quickly sat up straight, staring at the new message on your screen.

 **_Ignis:_ ** _Congratulations on your success._

Shooting up from the sofa, you began to pace, the phone held between your hands. What did this mean? Nervous elation began to course its way through you. Bouncing a little on your feet, you went into the room’s small kitchen to give Ravus a wide-eyed look.

He paused in his ministrations, a container of loose tea leaves in hand, to stare back. “What is it now?”

You chewed on your lip, brows furrowing. Fuck, this was too much. There were already so many thoughts taking up valuable real estate in your brain. You held out your phone to him. “Look.”

He took the device and glanced at the screen. His frown deepened for a moment, but he schooled it with a small shake of his head. He put the tea on the countertop and handed the phone back to you without saying anything. You thought he was thinking over an answer, some piece of advice that would set you on the right path. But you realized, after he returned to making tea, that he was offering nothing.

“Ravus?”

He didn’t look at you, taking out two teacups from a cupboard. Damn, his room was so much fancier than your own. He ignored you, continuing his ministrations as if you weren’t standing there.

You left the kitchen with the intent to leave his room completely but stopped to look at the message on your way to the door. _Congratulations on your success._ What was _that_? There was so much there to analyze, and you couldn’t do it by yourself! Bypassing his sitting area, you flopped yourself onto Ravus’ hotel bed. You sank into the lush bedspread, thoughts and heart racing.

—

Ravus didn’t let you take the tea on his bed so you let it get cold as it sat on the coffee table in the sitting area. You paced the room, looking between him and your phone intermittently. He’d yet to say anything helpful, and you were growing tense. Whatever you said, it needed to be perfect. Ignis was reaching out for the first time in months. You didn’t want to ruin your chance to reconcile with him.

“Do you no longer exist outside of a relationship with him?”

Ravus’ sudden question broke the quiet in the air. You stopped in place, facing him with surprise.

“I don’t _have_ a relationship with him.”

“How can you deny it when it continues to bring you pain? It’s not dead until you both move on or reunite.”

You frowned at him and repeated, “I _don’t_ have a relationship with him anymore, Ravus.”

“You do. When you stop denying it, you’ll come to realize how you’ve both let it go to hell.” He sighed, the teacup looking small in his hand. “Then you’ll either reconcile, or you’ll wise up and get over him.”

“Wise up?”

He took in a shallow a breath. “A common turn of phrase.”

“I know what it means,” you said, crossing your arms. “But, I mean, usually you’re more… supportive, I guess.” You recalled the way he had been in his rooms at the Citadel, telling you Ignis didn’t deserve you. You’d never mentioned Ignis in any of your emails so you might’ve forgotten his opinion on the other man. Chewing on your lower lip, you stepped closer to him. “Why word it like that?”

He seemed exasperated, an obvious roll of his eyes. “It’s merely an expression, ma crevette.”

“No,” you said, gripping your phone tightly in hand. “You can only call me that when you’re helping me. You don’t think it’s wise for me to pine after Ignis anymore? I thought you were rooting for me.”

“For you, certainly,” he said, voice becoming strikingly low and sharp. “Scientia is on his own. I realized during my time in Insomnia that no matter how successfully you’d made him into your strength, you may only serve as his weakness.”

That gave you pause. He’d told you to make Ignis your strength, and though you’d argue that you sometimes had the emotional capacity of a child, you’d always taken Ravus’ advice as something to strive toward. It was heartening to think that you’d succeeded, if only in Ravus’ opinion, but his view on Ignis remained negative, as always.

“So you’re done helping me because you don’t like Ignis.” It wasn’t a question; it didn’t need to be.

“I’m finished with helping you because you no longer need me,” he said plainly. “I’ve never had reason to care for Scientia, and I doubt that will ever change no matter how much happiness he could bring you.”

That was another bout of questionable wording. Why did it matter how happy you were? Ravus had seemed pleased just to get you out of his hair when the new year began. He’d seemed to enjoy reminding you of how you were no longer his responsibility.

“I don’t need you,” you agreed, dropping your arms to your sides. “But I can _want_ to need you. Prompto or Gladio would totally help me if I asked, but no one—” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking your words over before voicing them. “No one gets me like you, Ravus.”

For the first time since you’d known him, he looked genuinely surprised. His mouth parted, but no words came out. His eyes mapped your face, as if he were trying to find something deeper in your expression. You felt like he knew there was more you had to say.

“You’ve made me so self-aware, it’s uncomfortable,” you kept going, trying to finish your train of thought. “I’ve never really needed anyone so maybe I’m not ready to let go of needing you yet, and honestly, I think you like being needed. If you really aren’t helping me out of the _kindness_ of your heart anymore, why care about my happiness?”

“That is the nature of our friendship,” he said, responding quicker than you anticipated after all of his silence. “I want you to find happiness, but I will no longer interfere in that process.”

He stood up, and you took a step back. “Why not?”

He sighed again, heavier this time. “My reasons aren’t up for discussion. Things are just as they are.”

“Why do you gotta be cryptic?” You followed him as he rounded the coffee table with the teacups in his hands. “Just tell me why you can’t help me. It sounds like you _want_ to.”

He made a disapproving sound of irritation.

You smiled slightly, feeling like you might be getting through to him. You watched him dump out your cup and place both on the counter. “What happened to being honest and honorable above all else?”

“In this situation,” he said, voice lower than before. “I cannot be both. So I’ve chosen to disengage. We will talk of this no further.”

You stepped closer to him, wishing he’d look at you. “But I think—”

He turned to you, expression hard to read. “Understand one thing. I’d like nothing more than to make you happy.”

Your smile dropped, a pleading look taking its place. “Then _help_ me, Ravus. Please.”

His jaw tightened, and you were sure he was going to turn you down again. You were testing his patience as it was, but the message had filled you with a sense of urgency.

“Alright.” He nodded once, passing you on his way out of the kitchen. You trailed him to the sitting room where he returned to his spot on the sofa. He picked up a book that had been sitting on the coffee table since you’d arrived. Flipping it open, he waved a hand in a vague motion. “Tell me what you intend to say to him.”

With a slight delay at his sudden change of heart, you blurted, “What?”

As if this conversation were only a minor part of the larger task at hand, he turned the page in the book, eyes moving back and forth as he read. “Tell me what you want to tell him.”

Nodding in understanding, you sat next to him, leaning against his side. You re-read the message, then held the phone to your chest as you thought. There were a lot of things you wanted to tell Ignis, but none of them were appropriate responses to what he’d sent.

“I miss you,” you let out with a breath. “I want you to hold me. I miss…” You swallowed, your heart heavy with a mess of feelings. “I miss the way it felt having you inside me. I want to feel your skin against mine again.”

Ravus hummed, and you could feel him tense next to you. “I suggest you keep it short.”

“Right,” you nodded, reading the message yet again. “Short.”

“It may be wise to make no mention of sexual acts,” he said as he turned another page. He was rigid next to you, and you realized you’d made him uncomfortable with your unfiltered thoughts.

Childishly, you wanted to knock the book out of his hands. You wanted his full attention and felt insanely bratty. Fighting the urge, you closed your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t dredge up old things like your sexual past together if you didn’t want to scare Ignis away. You were going to _ruin_ it.

A yawn made its way out of you. “I’ll think of something shorter and totally unsexy. Give me a minute.” Another hum from him, and you settled in at his side with a sigh as he finally relaxed. “Thank you, papa-gateau, I mean it.”

Sleep hit you hard and sudden, the last thought on your mind being that it shouldn’t have been this difficult to send a simple message to someone you cared about. You dreamt about walking on literal eggshells.

—

You woke slowly, eyes droopy and heavy with sleep when you opened them. Lifting your head from a broad chest, you found Ravus dozing silently. You blinked away the sleepiness, taking in the sight of him with bleary attention. It was kind of creepy how quiet he was; it almost made you want to hold a hand under his nose to make sure he was still breathing. But you felt the rise and fall of his chest against you, arms about your waist in a loose hold.

Shifting and stretching above him on the sofa, you gave his cheek a small slap when his arms only tightened around you in response to your movement. “Ravus.”

His eyes cracked open, and he inhaled a deep breath, looking around for a moment before his eyes landed on you. You felt crusty as hell and wanted to get up to wash your face, and you planned to tell him as much. But you were suddenly taken by the smile that grew on his face. You’d never seen _that_ before. It was soft with sleep, and only seemed to grow when he murmured something in quiet Tenebraen that you didn’t understand. He leaned forward, kissing your gently on the lips before drawing back and closing his eyes again, smile waning but not fading entirely.

You blinked, staring at him. Your entire body tensed, and you felt him do the same in response as his eyes cracked open again, wide this time as he stared at the ceiling. His smile disappeared, his arms leaving you as he sat up, effectively pushing you off and and away.

His footing wasn’t solid as he stood, a slight stumble with heavy steps that surprised you as he walked across the sitting room and through a door into what you thought might’ve been the bathroom. Suddenly alone, you sent a sweeping look around the room before reluctantly landing on the closed bathroom door.

So. That happened.

You blinked more sleep from your eyes and rubbed at them as you got onto your own feet. Your tattooed skin was stinging so you trudged to the kitchen to run lukewarm water over it to get rid of the irritation. You let your mind stall for a while, moving mechanically as you cared for your stupid, drunken mistake. Patting down the delicate skin with a paper towel, you gave the unicorn a long look. Thoughts, as they always did, began to flood your mind.

They ranged from things Prompto had said over the past several months, to the correspondence you’d shared with Ravus, to the kiss you’d gotten upon waking only minutes before. There were missing pieces, things that didn’t quite make sense to you, but something was becoming startlingly apparent.

_I’d like nothing more than to make you happy._

“Morning.”

The greeting made you look over, eyes wide as they took him in. He stood in the doorway, expression guarded and hesitant. His clothes were wrinkled, his t-shirt riding up slightly — _Astrals, don’t ogle at a time like this_ — over his lounge pants. You met his eyes and opened your mouth to ask him if it was true. If you weren’t jumping to conclusions. But you found yourself at a loss for words.

So you walked toward him, raising a hand to touch his jaw. The words were there, in your mouth, just on the tip of your tongue. It would be easy to ask, but you weren’t sure what you wanted him to say. What if you were wrong, and it only upset him?

Stamping down on those thoughts, you rose on the tips of your toes, your heart picking up paces in your chest. This was the easiest, most familiar way for you. If words weren’t working right now, this had to do. You tilted your chin upward, hoping your intent was obvious enough.

Ravus’ breaths grew lighter and quicker, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your mouth. He was too tall for you to meet him fully so you were encouraged when he brought a hand to your waist and closed the distance.

His lips were clumsy against yours, but you guided him with steady movements that he promptly matched. It was slightly startling, the taste of toothpaste on his lips. You almost worried your morning breath would be gross for him, but the way he drew you closer, his hand at your waist pressing you against him, told you he didn’t care. When your tongue dipped into his mouth, though, he broke the contact.

He let go of you, eyes flicking from one part of your face to another. Lowering your hand from his jaw, you let a slow smile cross your face. You realized with relief, that your approach had been the right one because it hadn’t just made the answer to your question very clear, it had helped you solidify your own feelings on the matter.

“That must’ve been a nice dream,” you said, chewing on your lip to keep the smile from growing too large. “Whatever was going on before you woke up, I mean.”

Ravus visibly swallowed, something you’d never seen in him. “I haven’t woken up next to someone since I was very young. Luna would have the occasional nightmare.” A light pink dusted his face, and the sight of it left you feeling light. “When you fell asleep on me last evening, I didn’t want to wake you. I never imagined you’d be so lovely in repose.”

“Lovely?” You almost laughed. He was so full of shit. Your own face grew warm, anyway.

He lifted a hand, his palm brushing your cheek, fingers lightly tangling in your hair. “Need I repeat myself?”

A warmth burned in your chest, heavy and searing. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that.” He leaned down, growing closer again, and you stepped forward to meet him. “I’m gonna think you like me.”

He tilted his head downward. Your eyes drifted to a close, and you anticipated the touch of his mouth on yours again. Instead, he kissed your forehead. A spark of warmth was left there when he drew back, moving on to your temples. His lips ghosted over your closed eyes, the tip of your nose, your cheeks and your chin in barely-there kisses that burned sweetly against your skin.

The feeling in your chest was an old, familiar kind of happiness. Everything else he made you feel with his touch, those indescribable sensations, they weren’t something you’d ever felt before.

He drew back again after the lightest kiss left on your lips. When you opened your eyes, he was gazing down at you with another guarded expression, as if he were keeping himself together in front of you. For what, you weren’t sure.

“You’re leaving today, correct?”

You nodded. In less than three hours. You should’ve been packing right now.

“I’ll call room service up to bring us breakfast.”

He left the kitchen, and you followed, unsure of what to say. _This might be confusing because of Ignis and last night and, oh that’s right, I have a boyfriend back home_ didn’t seem to be the best thing to say, but it would’ve certainly been the most poignant.

You sat on the edge of Ravus’ bed while he spoke to someone on the hotel’s phone. Eyes following the way he brushed back his hair, the pull of his shirt on his torso, you felt even less inclined to bring up the important things. You weren’t sure what to say or do at all.

He placed the phone down and looked at you, at the bed you sat on, and then made a point to walk to the sitting area to wait for the food. You didn’t move after him for a few minutes, sitting alone on the bed with your jumbled thoughts. This wasn’t what you’d expected out of your weekend in Altissia.

Joining him in the sitting space, you sat in an armchair with the coffee table between you and realized you couldn’t meet his eyes without blushing now. How humiliating.

“Papa-gâteau,” you said, drawing your legs up to sit more comfortably. “Maybe we—”

A loud knock at the room’s door interrupted you. Room service sure was fast for the important guests, you thought as you watched them push in a cart once Ravus had opened the door. They smiled at him, then at you, and you felt a weird sense of embarrassment further at being seen in Ravus’ room as if this were some kind of morning after a tawdry night.

“I won’t be able to see you off,” he said quietly, eyeing you as you picked at one of the plates that had been brought up. “So I hope this will suffice as a farewell.”

You nodded, feeling oddly shy at the gesture. An hour passed that way, small but unimportant conversations passing between you. When you needed to be at the port in less than two hours, you began to gather your things, nowhere closer to understanding what you were feeling or how to express it to Ravus in a coherent way.

It felt too sudden, but wasn’t that the way of everything good that came to you? Sudden and unexpected. Sending Ravus a thoughtful glance as you slipped on your shoes, you wondered if this _was_ a good thing. On one hand, you were in the game of protecting yourself these days. On the other, if there was anything Ravus had always made you feel, it was safe.

You picked up the obnoxiously expensive Scientia pen and placed it in your pocket. Your hand lingered there, touching the other thing that occupied the space: the small, golden hourglass from your broken necklace.

Ravus had lifted both of the plates from the coffee table, putting them on the cart that he pushed out into the hallway for the hotel staff to pick up later. When he returned to the room, you were rolling the hourglass in your hand, watching the sand inside shift unevenly. You looked up at his arrival and walked to him with it held out in offer.

He let you drop it into his hand, confusion clear in his expression.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you said, all nerves and fluttering heart. “I just want you to have it so you can, um, remember this weekend.”

His long fingers curled over it slowly, but his face remained curious, eyes almost analytical in their trace over your features.

“I still have a boyfriend,” you rushed to say as if neither of you knew what —or _who_ , rather— the actual problem was that made this so strange. You felt awkward from your pressing behavior the night before. More pressing, you felt unbelievably warm from the memory of his touch. You had no idea he could be that gentle. And to be that way with _you_ … It was giving you too much to think about.

“Of course.” Ravus nodded, though he appeared completely unworried by the thought of your boyfriend.

You hugged him then, burying your face in his warm chest. After a moment of hesitation, his arms slowly wound around you. He held you close, and you hated that you had to leave because, while he wasn’t much of a hand holder, Ravus was definitely a hugger. You felt his head rest over yours and his chest expand as he took a deep breath.

“Your smile is great, by the way,” you said, cutting through the quiet air.

With a smile, you let go and backed away to leave. When you neared the door, he caught your hand. How cliche, you thought. The sardonic thought didn’t stop the quickening of your heartbeat when you turned back to look up at him.

He leaned down, his forehead touching yours. It was close enough that you were able to rise a little to brush your lips against his.

“Behave yourself out there,” he said, voice low.

Your smile grew. “No promises.” You kissed him again, and he followed you when you drew back this time. You needed to leave, like _now._ Pulling your hand from his, you laughed lightly. “Take your own advice. I’ve gotta go.”

He frowned, his sharp eyes following you as you backed toward the door.

Stalling for a few more seconds, you pushed the door open and said, “And call your sister. She's worried.”

Walking down the hallway and stopping at the elevator, you ran hands down your face. Prompto was going to enjoy being right all this time. You peered at the tattoo and sighed. There was no way out of telling him.

—

 **_Ignis:_ ** _Congratulations on your success._

 **_You:_ ** _Thanks, Ignis._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A kiss 4 being the best and so chill with my crap ★⌒ヽ( ͡° ε ͡°)
> 
> For a good image of Throbert, just imagine the person you regret most ever having a crush on.
> 
> THANK YOU to jurassic gal for drawing the [goodbye scene](https://imgur.com/kdTtCIZ) at the end of this chapter in an absolutely beautiful comic. <3


	3. Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the encouragement and amazing art; its so motivating and wonderful hearing your thoughts! And a million thanks to Elathepenn for listening to my rambling and being an incredible muse and source of inspiration. <3
> 
> Sorry I’m not posting as frequently, but it’s not my style to leave anything hanging so I promise it’ll get done even if it takes me a bit between chapters. Hope this monster makes up for it!

Flipping the personal card between your fingers, you chewed on your lip and sent Prompto the occasional glance from across the couch. Your laptop was in your lap, one of Fake Prompto’s social media accounts up on the screen. He liked sports and nature and wanted to make documentaries, apparently. He was from Niflheim, which explained why you hadn’t recognized his accent or any of the words on his profile without your browser’s automatic translator.

“What?” Prompto blurted, diverting his attention from the video game on the tv to you for a split second. “What’s up?”

You played with the card nervously. It was a little bent and frayed at the edges from the two days of this, of your hesitance since returning to Insomnia. 

“So, Prom,” you began, closing your laptop. You put the card on top of it to stop yourself from bending it further. “I met someone in Altissia.”

He rolled his eyes, pausing the game to look at you. “Yeah, I wonder _who_.” He looked pointedly at the tattoo on your wrist. You’d shown him as soon as you’d gotten back, ashamed because you had to explain what had led to getting it. Things were only now becoming less tense between you.

He’d been angry at you for hiding your problem from him and angry at himself for not catching on to it. If it were anyone else, you would’ve been unaffected, but Prompto somehow knew how to properly shame you with a single look of disappointment. 

You shook your head, pulling down your sleeve to cover the tattoo. “No, really. Listen. I met someone interesting.” You picked up the card and held it out to him. “Check them out. I _really_ think you’d like their stuff.”

He took the slip of card stock, gave the name a brief glance, and then tossed it onto the coffee table. “Sure, maybe later.”

You looked from the card to Prompto, who was already returning to his video game. It was probably best to be quiet about it for now. Hopefully he’d check it out soon because you were itching to spill all the beans and let every cat out of the bag. But, like Ravus had said, it didn’t feel like your secret to tell. So you were choosing to give him a little push in that direction instead.

You reopened your laptop and looked at the face on the screen that looked so much like Prompto’s. Another five minutes spent looking at this guy’s pictures, and you had to force yourself to stop. You wanted to tell Prompto about him _right now._

To fight the urge, you closed out of Fake Prompto’s social site and looked for a terrible meme to send Ravus. You hadn’t done that in about… an hour now, so it was time. He never responded to them, likely because you sent them without context. He still sent emails, though. Since you’d left Altissia, they’d grown longer and more frequent. It was becoming something you looked forward to every day.

You were waiting for one now, actually.

“Get any awards?” Prompto asked, giving you a quick glance. “At the festival?”

You nodded, realizing now that you hadn’t ranted to him about this yet because he’d spent the days since your return being upset with you.

“It received a laurel for audience approval,” you said with a small amount of pride. “And a whole bunch of shit reviews from the judges.”

A loud knock on the front door had Prompto pausing the game again. “Really? An award and the judges still hated it?”

You found the email that listed all of the feedback the judges had given. Only two out of ten had given your movie a good rating. Which was better than all of them hating it, at least. Raising your voice to carry it through the apartment while he answered the door, you read a few of the reviews aloud.

“The least critical one says, ‘The writing plays with ideas that are way out of its depth’ which is fair, I guess.” You scanned the words for another. “Oh, and this one says the entire movie is ‘somewhat palatable, written and directed with spirit but no skill’. Can you believe that?” 

You closed your computer and put it away. Looking at the reviews was upsetting you all over again. People were hard to please, and you figured you just weren’t eager enough to placate everyone like you were supposedly meant to.

Prompto spoke quietly with someone in the entrance, and you peeked over the couch to see who’d come over. To absolutely no one’s surprise, Gladio stood in the doorway. He grinned at you when he noticed you watching. 

“Complaining as always, juicy?”

You shrugged, dropping back to pick up Prompto’s controller. If he was going to leave his game unattended to flirt, that was his own fault. “Just wondering who I gotta blow to get a good review around here.”

“Careless with your words as ever, I see.”

The voice made you lose focus on the game. It was with effort and reigned in excitement that you looked over the couch again. Gladio had finally stepped inside, taking up much of the small hallway by the entrance. Next to him were Noctis and Ignis, the latter of which looking your way. His expression was relaxed as if he were used to giving you such offhand comments.

He looked nice, his suit jacket open and shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to reveal his collarbones and that necklace he always wore. He hadn’t changed at all. Every hair on his head was in place, and his perfect face made your heart pull tight in your chest.

When you didn’t say anything, your stare growing long, Ignis touched a glove, speaking up again, “That seems a rather touchy subject in your industry this day and age.”

Be cool, you told yourself. You’d planned to look absolutely hot the next time you encountered Ignis. It had been three entire months since you’d seen him, many opportunities passing you by when you were actually ready. So of course he’d show up when you were wearing a sweatshirt with a stain on the front and your hair was a wadded, unwashed mess. It didn’t help that you no longer had contacts, your Tenebraen prescription incompatible for Lucian providers. So you pushed up your glasses nervously, feeling as unattractive as you possibly could. 

“So, anyway, Prom,” you said, eyes going back to your best friend. “My movie poster will have a nice little award laurel on it. For audience approval.”

Prompto made his way back toward you. “That’s awesome.”

The others followed him in, and it wasn’t until they seemed to stall just inside the living room that you realized they didn’t know where to sit. They didn’t know where to sit because _you_ were there. You fought the urge to get up, to hide in your bedroom. Gods knew you wanted to change into clothes that weren’t disgusting, but doing that now would make Ignis think you cared.

Gladio was the first to sit, throwing himself down next to you while Prompto confiscated his controller and took your other side. That seemed to do the trick, Noct and Ignis taking the remaining seats quietly.

“How’d you like Altissia?” Gladio wasn’t going to let the silence sit, his arm thrown over the back of the couch behind you. 

You smiled, gaze going from the game on the tv screen to Gladio’s curious expression. Already having spilled your guts about everything you experienced that weekend, good and bad, to Prompto, you were ecstatic to do it all over again for your other friends. You were extremely aware of Ignis looking your way, your smile being matched with an unwanted blush.

“It was incredible. I went to this restaurant with its own gondola line, like it was _so_ fancy. And it’s beautiful even at night with all the lights and the music everywhere. The romance was—” You put your hands on your cheeks, wishing Ignis would stop watching you because you were becoming self conscious about your gushing. “Overwhelming. It really is the most romantic city in the world. We even got caught in a parade while I was there. We had to walk across half the city to get back to the hotel.”

Gladio rose a brow. “We?” 

You froze, lowering your hands. “Uh, yeah. Ravus was there for some Oracle stuff at the embassy.”

Noctis, who’d been giving an unsolicited commentary to Prompto over his gameplay, paused to say, “Luna says thanks, by the way. He finally called her.”

Sending him a grin, you relaxed into the couch. “I’m surprised he even listened to me.”

Gladio grunted as he cleared his throat, catching your attention. Facing him put Ignis in your peripheral again. He was looking off now, gaze somewhere toward the window that led to the fire escape.

“Kinda convenient,” Gladio said. “Him showing up when you’re there.”

You rolled your eyes at this. He was always finding reasons to guilt you over “your boyfriend Ravus”, and you weren’t going to let it bother you now, despite the very real complications that had sprouted up between yourself and the prince.

“He didn’t even know I was gonna be in town,” you said, drawing up your legs if only to hide the huge stain on your shirt from Ignis. You pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose, dropping your hands to splay your fingers along your knees. Eyes trailing to Ignis, you caught him working his jaw, his focus on one of his gloved hands.

It felt more appropriate to end it there, to not let Ignis keep assuming there was something between you and Ravus, but something pulled at you to open your mouth.

“He took me out to dinner to that fancy place I mentioned,” you said, dropping your forehead to your knees and smiling at the memory. It seemed like he’d been kind of annoyed for most of the trip, but they didn’t need to know that. “His hotel room was way nicer than mine, too. I guess that’s what you get when you’re royalty.” 

Noctis groaned, and you lifted your head to let out a small laugh at his expense. It was easy to let them assume, especially if they were going to anyway, that you were anything more than friends with Ravus. You wanted Ignis to see that it wasn’t true. You wanted him to see through your nonsense and to love you again. But it seemed impossible right now so you were left with the bare options of petty comments and pure avoidance.

“You still have that same boyfriend?” Gladio asked, saying the last word with the usual amount of distaste. 

You shrugged. “Yeah. He’s giving Insomnia a tourgasm right now. His words, not mine,” you laughed again, sending Gladio a look of mean-spirited mirth. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel bad about making fun of Throbert behind his back. “I think he’s playing at three different shitty clubs tonight. I’m going to the last show later.”

Pasting on a smile with a very sudden thought, you looked around at each face, stopping on Ignis’. “You guys should totally come. He’s an amazing musician.”

Ignis, finally looking your way again, frowned. “I’m not sure I have the time to…”

Your phone chimed from its place on the coffee table, and you purposely tuned Ignis out to check it.

 **_Ravus:_ ** _How are you doing?_

You perked up at this. A text from him was rare and had never happened when you weren’t on the same continent. You hummed noncommittally at whatever Ignis was saying as you replied.

 **_You:_ ** _Good. Thinking of ways to flex on Ignis_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I don’t understand what you mean._

 **_You:_ ** _Trying to make him see what a bastard he is_

 **_You:_ ** _I thought texting was beneath you_  

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I’m too tired to reply to the senseless photos you’ve sent me._  

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Never send me things of that nature again._  

You snorted and scrolled through the few crappy memes you had saved on your phone’s camera roll, sending one off to him. 

 **_You:_ ** _What about this, papa?_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _You cannot ignore him or attempt to pick fights forever._

You frowned at the message. He was blatantly disregarding your very good shitpost. 

 **_You:_ ** _I can and I will_  

 **_Ravus:_ ** _You need closure._

Losing interest in the exchange because Ravus just _had_ to be rational, you stretched out your legs and put your phone in your lap to smile at Ignis. “Sorry, what were you saying? I wasn’t listening.”

Ignis frowned at your less than subtle snub. You heard Gladio sigh next to you and chewed on the inside of your cheek at the quiet that followed. Rather than stew in the discomfort you’d created, you gave in and retreated to your bedroom. As if a switch had been thrown the moment your door closed, you heard their voices pick up with indistinct chatter once you were gone.

Part of you was upset at Prompto for inviting Ignis over without any warning. Ignis being among the guys was always a possibility, though. You only wished he’d visited sooner, when you had been much more vigilant with your appearance. No big deal, you told yourself. You still had plausible reason to make yourself look sexy, the prospect of your boyfriend’s set that night still on the horizon.

Before anything else, you needed a shower. The living room quieted during your short walk across the hallway from your room to the bathroom. They were like middle school girls, talking behind your back or something. Maybe it was just paranoia on your part, but you hadn’t exactly been as cool as you’d told yourself to be earlier. 

It was difficult not to think about the rift that had definitely formed between yourself and your friends. You’d spent much of your friendship even before your mess with Ignis wondering if you were one too many for their group, and maybe that was true now. You didn’t let yourself get upset over it, focusing on the physical task of getting cleaned up instead.

When you left the bathroom, towel wrapped around you tightly, you almost ran face first into Ignis. Gloved hands gripped your upper arms, light but firm, keeping you from smacking into his hard chest. Your breath caught, a curse slipping from your mouth, and your hands held the towel tighter about yourself. He let go to take a step back. His eyes widened behind his glasses, then averted to focus elsewhere.

“Pardon me,” he said quietly. “I’m merely obtaining something from Prompto’s room.”

He walked around you, entering the other bedroom. You heard him rummage through things, lingering in the hallway until he appeared in the doorway. Quickly, you went into your bedroom to avoid him, a wide smile overtaking your expression. You hadn’t imagined the look on his face, right? The way he’d unnecessarily explained why he was in the hallway was almost too much. Your heart warmed, a hope within renewed at the simple moment that had passed. 

You scoured your closet for a dress that didn’t reach past mid-thigh. The one you chose conformed to your body tightly, and you had to forgo a bra to fit your breasts comfortably underneath the thin layer of fabric. When you couldn’t zip it up completely, you stepped out of your room, calling down the hall, “Prom, help me out.”

He didn’t even unpause his game, giving you a, “M’busy.” Noctis had taken your spot, joining in the game. Neither paid attention to you as you stopped next to the couch with a pout.

“But I need a hand,” you said, looking at Gladio next. Much to your disappointment, Ignis wasn’t in the room. You could hear noise from the kitchen and resisted the temptation to wander that way in search of him.

The big guy stood up, chuckling at you. “C’mon, juicy, you’re being too obvious.”

You frowned and turned your back toward him, holding your damp hair over your shoulder. “About what?”

He zipped up the dress in one long motion, pulling it tighter over your curves. “Just talk to him. Have a normal conversation.”

Smoothing your hands down your sides in satisfaction, you pulled lightly at the hem, drawing it taught over your backside. You saw no point in attempting an actual conversation with Ignis. What would you say? You weren’t sorry. You were sad and irritated for being tossed aside so easily. The only things you had to say to him were anything that made it clear that you were doing better without him. That _he_ was the one who’d made the mistake.

You ran fingers through your hair, turning around to face Gladio. You’d taken your glasses off before showering, but he was close enough that he wasn’t a blur in your vision. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze following the movement of your hand. 

“What the hell is that?”

You slowed in detangling your hair, fingers pulling at knotted strands that caught. “Huh?”

Gladio grabbed your forearm, holding your arm out, wrist up. Oh, right. The tattoo. It had only been a week, but you were growing used to it now that the pain had finally ebbed away into something dull and easily ignored.

“ _This_ is what you got, juicy?” He let go of your hand when you tugged at it, letting it fall to your side.

You shrugged, bringing your opposite hand up to cover it. “It looks cool.” 

Gladio shook his head, scratching at the scruff on his chin for a moment before saying, “It looks like a big mistake. There are some things you can’t come back from.”

Pursing your lips, you tightened your grip on your wrist, palm covering the inked skin. “Yeah, I _know_ that about tattoos, dude.”

He sighed. “You need to think before you get involved with someone like Ravus.”

You shook your head, furrowing your brows in question. What was that even supposed to mean? Ravus was hardly dangerous, if that’s what he meant. Gladio dropped heavy hands on your shoulders, and you let go of your wrist to cross your arms.

“Don’t fall in with someone that serious just to get back at Iggy,” he said, brown eyes meeting yours carefully.

“I’m _not_ ,” you ground out, glaring up at him. “Stop assuming shit.”

Prompto paused the game, he and Noctis looking over at your exchange. “What’s going on, guys?”

You shrugged Gladio’s hands off, ignoring the question and returning to your room. While you made up your face and attempted to do something presentable with your hair, you kept glancing at the tattoo. It was certainly a source of anxiety and concern, but it had nothing to do with Ignis. Thoughts of him may have pulled at you every day, but not everything held root in your want of him.

This was a separate issue entirely. 

Makeup perfectly applied and outfit the right amount of indecent, you left your room for the final time with more confidence than you’d had all night. You ditched your glasses, hiding them in your bag to put on once you were away from Ignis. You needed to look your best, otherwise what was the point of it all?

Ignis still wasn’t in the living room, but a gigantic bowl of popcorn was on the coffee table. You made a show of getting responses from the guys before heading out. A round of thumbs up and a grin from Gladio told you all your effort had paid off. You were further disappointed to not see Ignis in the kitchen like you’d expected.

The air in the stairwell was chilly, a mark of the early spring night that waited for you outside. Your heels clicked loudly against each step, your mind going down a mental checklist of all your plans that night. The biggest point on your agenda was breakup sex. Or at least, a breakup blowjob because you really needed the distraction. 

You slowed just outside the main entrance, stopping at the top of the stoop. Ignis stood a yard or so away, phone to his ear.

“Is _that_ what you’ll be wearing? In that case, I’ll call it an early evening soon,” he chuckled. His voice was low, a softness to it you hadn’t heard in so long, you felt weak. “I wait with baited breath, darling.”

He noticed you, eyes meeting yours as he turned to you. With your temporary boost of confidence, you walked down the stoop and gave him a small wave on your way past. 

Another quiet chuckle from him, followed by a low hum. “I love you, too.”

Your step faltered, your ankle bending in a way that it _shouldn’t_ for a second before you caught yourself. The pavement was uneven, and you watched your footing for the rest of your walk to the nightclub. You sped up with each step you took in order to get away from the tearing sensation that slowly ripped its way through you.

—

Classes felt like long stretches of static, disrupting an otherwise solid length of empty time. They pulled at your focus the most, Prompto taking place as an easy second distraction from your constant flux of thoughts. You were maintaining sobriety successfully, but at what cost? You felt empty without that warmth burning through your bloodstream, without that high taking you far away from your problems.

You faced your finals with intense focus, throwing yourself into your studies more than you ever had. While Prompto prepared to graduate, you still had a requisite internship to complete before being so lucky. You’d secured one after returning from Altissia —a job on a legitimate movie set— and spent most of your downtime looking forward to whatever lowly tasks you’d be doing for the rich and famous all summer.

You were drawing closer to understanding that this needed to be a time for yourself. Even though you still wanted Ignis and felt the pull of curiosity over what Ravus might’ve felt for you, even if it was only the weakest crush, this was a time to get a grip on yourself without the distraction of another person.

At least, that’s what you told yourself every time you held on to every word spoken about Ignis when spending time with the guys. That’s the excuse you used when looking at Ignis’ contact in your phone for extended periods of time without gathering the courage to reach out. With even Ravus pressuring you to _find closure,_ bringing Ignis back into your life had become a checkbox on your list to becoming comfortable with yourself again.

Out of your last final exam, you stared at Ignis’ number in your contacts. You had a graduation party planned for Prompto, and Ignis was the only person you hadn’t yet invited. It was days away now so you were pushing yourself to just do it. There was no other way to get over him —something you _needed_ to do because he’d long gotten over you— than to befriend him again.

As your thumb hovered over the call button, a pictureless contact came up on the screen, Ravus’ foreign number scrolling along the bottom. With a tiny amount of relief at further being stalled, you answered with a smile. 

“Papa-gâteau, you called first. You’re evolving!”

Always to the point, he said, “I’m going to be in your city next month for the Summer Games. I want to see you.”

Your walk across campus slowed, your impish look waning into something softer. With a look around as if embarrassed that his blunt statement could’ve been heard by the other students that passed by, you let out a small laugh. 

“I might be busy,” you said, returning to your walk toward the train station. “I’ll be interning by then.” 

“Interning where?” His voice was low, possibly with sleepiness given the late hour it had to be in Tenebrae. You imagined he was getting ready for bed.

The thought that he’d wanted to speak to you before falling asleep embarrassed you further. He was _just a friend,_ you told yourself. You didn’t date friends. Not anymore. Especially not unreasonably attractive ones with sticks up their asses. You’d been down that road and had no intent to return.

“Here in Insomnia.” You worried your lower lip and looked up at the overcast sky, letting the words run through your mind before saying them. “Of course we’ll see each other, Ravus. You think I’m gonna let you visit without saying hello?”

He hummed, and you lowered your gaze from the sky as it opened up just enough to let the sun bear down on you.

“Until then,” he said, voice even softer. He sounded tired; he was going to hang up any moment. “Be well.”

“You, too,” you said quickly, but the line was already beeping as it disconnected. His phone etiquette needed serious work.

You used the earnest comfort you’d gained from that short conversation to propel your next point of action. It was the small bit of bravery you needed to get it over with. While you waited for the train, you called Ignis.

Naturally, he didn’t pick up. There was a brief moment of hesitation after the beep of his voicemail message in which you had no clue what to say. What were you even doing? Your mind stalled, and you cleared your throat twice before you remembered why you were calling. The words felt robotic coming out, the explanation of Prompto’s grad party and your wish— wait, no, _everyone’s_ wish for Ignis to be there to celebrate.

“Um, yeah,” you said, still going on in the message, though you’d said everything you needed to. The train had arrived, and you followed the surrounding crowd into a car, securing an arm around one of the balancing poles. “So, anyway. Hope to see you there. Well, _I_ don’t hope to see you. I mean, I _do_ but—”

A loud beep cut you off, marking the end of the message. It automatically disconnected the call, and you looked at your phone in horror at your own inability to leave a simple message. Closing your eyes tightly, you sighed and willed away the urge to call again and explain yourself further.

Prompto’s party was going to be great _._ _You_ were going to be great.

—

“Why the fuck is she here?” you hissed, dragging Noctis by his arm down the hallway of your apartment. 

The prince didn’t fight it, a look on his face that didn’t quite meet the same level of annoyance that you were feeling. “She invited herself.”

You let go of his arm, watching as Ignis led his girlfriend past the hallway, completely unaware of you, and right into _your_ home. He was smiling warmly, her hand resting delicately over his while he showed her where she could sit.

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Noct sighed, and you forced yourself to look at him instead of the complete travesty that was happening in your living room. He scratched his head, eyes slowly meeting yours. The glint of his wedding ring stood out against the black of his hair. You almost anticipated him talking you down, reminding you that this party was for Prompto or that Ignis wouldn’t bring her there just to hurt you.

Instead Noctis shrugged, and you hadn’t related more to anyone in your entire life. Words were lost on you just as well. This was out of his realm of interpersonal drama. He had an entire kingdom on his shoulders; your discomfort was nothing in comparison.

You contented yourself with the thought that it was just for the evening. With some junk food and a lot of mingling, you told yourself you’d get through it in one piece. Keeping yourself busy was the key. Everyone’s attention would be on Prompto; all you had to do was stick back and make sure he had fun.

Beelining from the hallway to the kitchen, you checked that there was enough food for all the people that kept spilling into your place as the night passed on. Most of the faces you recognized, though couldn’t put a name to. You only strayed from the kitchen when Prompto called for you —to be in a picture, to help him tell a story, to _stop hiding, dude_ — and always left the vicinity of Ignis and his girlfriend as quickly as you could.

Her voice grated, a high tone in a common accent that didn’t fit the designer clothes she wore. When Prompto had convinced you to leave the kitchen entirely, you stood by his side, sparkling grape juice in your cup so you could at least _pretend_ you were having as much slightly-inebriated fun as everyone else.

You kept adjusting your glasses, nervous because Ignis always seemed to be looking at you. His girlfriend sent you long smiles, her hand at a constant rest on his leg. It had begun at his knee and moved higher every time you chanced a look their way. 

Show some class, you thought. Hiding a grimace as a smile, you covered your mouth and pretended to laugh at a story someone was telling. Your insides twisted, curling and dropping further into a pit that stretched well beyond your feet with each interaction you had to see between them. 

You were glad you’d skipped his birthday party. What had happened to the hover hands Gladio had talked about? They didn’t seem awkward around each other at all. In fact, Ignis was being more touchy with her than he ever had with you in a social setting.

Gladio approached them and said something you couldn’t hear over the din of the music, dropping large hands on each of their shoulders as he leaned over the back end of the couch. Ignis frowned as Gladio laughed and let go to walk away. Ignis’ girlfriend turned to him with a glare, saying something that wasn’t very kind if you had to guess.

Ignis touched her cheek, fingertips tracing along her jaw. The attention made her expression smooth out into a smile. You hated yourself for how closely you watched the way his lips moved while he seemed to comfort whatever was bothering her. You made a mental note to ask Gladio later what antagonizing thing he’d apparently said.

How dare Ignis bring her to your house and make you watch this. You were far too much of a shit show at the moment to deal with it. Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d thrown you away? Did he really hate you this much? Prompto kept putting a reassuring arm around you, but it only made you feel worse. This party was a celebration for him, and you weren’t even enjoying it. You were barely keeping yourself together.

Whatever attempt you’d hoped to make at reconciling with Ignis as friends seemed even further from reach. You drank the rest of your grape juice and left for the kitchen. In there, you knew you wouldn’t have to pretend to be okay with what was happening. You felt short of breath, putting the cup on the counter before resting your palms there and letting your head drop. Her hand had gotten perilously close to his belt, and you were disgusted that no one else seemed to notice or care.

Righting yourself, you swallowed down the sick feeling that kept threatening to rise up your throat. Then, with a deep breath in and out, you pushed up your sleeves and returned to keeping yourself busy. You offered to get people more to drink, roaming the party with an opened bottle of red wine. The bitter smell of it was awful, but you could practically _taste_ how good it could’ve been on your tongue every time you poured someone another glass.

“Excuse me. I’d like more, too.”

A nerve pinched, a sour look close to appearing on your face. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek and faced Ignis’ girlfriend. Her hand had finally left his leg, you noticed, but felt no better about it. They both looked at you, Ignis’ eyes glancing between your face and the bottle in your hands. She held out her cup, leaning forward enough that you could see where Ignis’ hand rested at her waist.

“Sure,” you said, pouring wine into the glass. It was a miracle you didn’t move the slightest to let it spill into her lap. You held the bottle in offer to Ignis, but he shook his head, the slight frown on his face deepening. His eyes wouldn’t leave the bottle, though, and you wondered why he was being so petty as to not accept a simple measure of wine poured for him by the likes of you.

You returned to the kitchen to grab the white wine this time and make a second round. This hostess thing was _easy_ as long a you had emotions to repress. When you’d successfully removed an especially stubborn cork from the bottle, you turned to leave but a body blocked the archway. Ignis stood there, his attention solely on you. You hadn’t heard him and wondered how long he’d watched you struggle with the cork.

“Did you want white?” you asked, lifting the bottle. 

He stepped further into the room with another shake of his head. “You allowed him to mark you?”

Blinking, you looked at him warily. “What?”

Ignis reached toward you, and you let him take the bottle out of your hands. Your brows furrowed, thoughts not quite keeping up with what was happening. He put it down on the counter, the slam of it loud enough that you jumped slightly. It distracted you, unready as you were when he took hold of your hand. You lurched forward by the pull of his grip. Wrist up, your inner arm was on display, and you realized what he was getting at a moment too late.

“No longer trying to hide his claim on you?” His voice was a low, acidic drawl. “Explain this.”

Looking from the tattoo to his face, you ripped your hand from his. “I have _nothing_ to explain.”

Ignis leaned down, face drawing near yours. “Why continue to pretend?”

You swallowed at his closeness, hating the frown that cut his face and the small, involuntary thrill it gave you. “I’m not pretending.”

His jaw tightened. “You are unbelievable.”

“Me?” Your eyes widened in disbelief, meeting his hard stare with a glare of your own. “You brought your fucking girlfriend to _my_ house.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I was ill received my last visit. I thought it best to give you equal discomfort.”

You let out a harsh breath, feeling the words erupt out of you. “Please tell me it’s more than jealousy. Tell me you chose her because you really love her and not just because you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Like hell you don’t!” You felt your throat grow tighter, a nasty feeling welling in the cavity of your chest. “You weren’t the only one who waited. I spent months getting better while _you_ moved on.” You pushed at him, hands on his chest that he resisted far too easily for your liking. “You didn’t even tell me about her until I asked! Be honest, were you ever going to?”

Your hands fell from his chest, your eyes searching his face desperately. He opened his mouth, lips parting for several moments before meeting again. His eyes left yours, focusing downward and away. No answer was answer enough, and you let out a humorless huff of laughter. The thick feeling in your throat grew, and tears began to pool at the corners of your eyes.

“I fucking knew it,” you said, voice breaking halfway through.

The frown at his face pulled sharper, and he looked at you again, his brows meeting above his glasses. “You are just as accountable, playing me for a fool. Can you deny what I witnessed that night outside the ballroom? I’ve seen the way he looks at you, heard the name you have for him. Tell me, with the same honesty you ask of me, that there is nothing between you and Ravus.” Like his frown, his eyes were cutting.

You scowled at him, unable to say anything. Guilt made your stomach churn, though you knew it was false. The only things between you and Ravus were a few moments of intimacy, a lot of confusion, and an understanding that you were beginning to think Ignis could never come close to. 

Ignis didn’t seem to like your silence, a hand reaching out to grip your wrist again. He lifted it, shoving it so close to your face, it knocked your glasses off kilter.  “Tell me,” he bit out. “Tell me this means nothing to you.”

You grit your teeth, swinging your arm in a swift arch until your hand connected with his cheek. Your palm stung from the slap. Curling your fingers, you shook your hand a little as if it would help. He let go of you, bringing his hand to his cheek for a moment as his eyes grew wide.

He slowly blurred in your vision so you blinked the tears away, letting them fall. You wiped at them and resettled your focus on him. His expression had eased into something softer, eyes searching yours. The skin of his cheek was red from your slap, a clear, sore outline of your hand on his face.

You shook your head, raising a hand to ward him off before he could say anything else. You were done hearing him out. Passing him, you made for the front door. You let it slam behind you as you tumbled your way down the stairwell two steps at a time.

The night air met you with a misty, warm embrace. You could feel your hair curl at the humidity alone. It was only a few blocks to your old place. You hoped Aranea was home. You sent Prompto a message to let him know where you’d went, claiming that you’d needed a break from the crowd in your apartment. Which was true, in a way. 

You were crying when Aranea answered her door. Not sobbing or a silent, stoic scene, but something altogether just as pathetic. Your hands were in constant movement, brushing away tears, stifling sounds you didn’t want to be making, and twisting together in front of you while Aranea made you sit on her sofa.

She left to make you hot cocoa, a very old comfort that she’d sometimes offer when you had lived above her. She had it all year round because she had a small penchant for the stuff. The offer of it was always accompanied by a joking offer of a smoke that you’d turn down. She didn’t even do that this time, which was disappointing because you would’ve said yes.

While you waited for that, you kept checking your phone for a reply from Prompto. That way you knew he wouldn’t worry, and, even worse, wouldn’t come after you for an explanation of your sudden disappearance. Instead of Prompto, it was another name you were slowly growing used to seeing on your phone’s screen. You couldn’t help the small bit of joy you felt at seeing it. 

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Luna told me she saw you crying. Are you alright?_

That wasn’t good. You hadn’t thought anyone noticed your argument with Ignis since no one else had been in the kitchen with you. In retrospect, you realized you _had_ been yelling at some point. Of course people saw.

 **_You:_ ** _Am I ever?_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I suppose the true question is how legitimate your distress may be._

 **_You:_ ** _It’s always legit_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _You’re upset over senseless things quite often._  

 **_You:_ ** _It’s about Ignis_  

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I see._

 **_Ravus:_ ** _What would you have me do to him?_

You stared at the message, rereading it for a long minute. Aranea returned with a large mug, and you put down your phone to take it from her. It wasn’t Prompto levels of fancy and overindulgence, but it was a comfort. You were just sniffles and puffy eyes now, blowing on the steam that swirled up from the mug.

Aranea’s expression was pointed. She wanted to know what was happening, not because she wanted to fix it but so she could push you in the right direction to fix it yourself. For that reason, you stayed quiet. Your problem with Ignis didn’t feel fixable right now. If it could _ever_ be fixed.

Your phone lit up with a new message from its place on her coffee table. She leaned down to look before you could think to grab it. A brow arching in question, she sat next to you and picked up your phone without a care to your sputtering objections over the cocoa.

“Ravus, huh?” She held it out of your reach when you’d finally put down the mug to take your phone back. “That stuffed shirt is still checking up on you?” 

You whined, mood shifting to annoyance. “Aranea, give it back.”

“Is he the reason you’re like this?” She tried and failed to unlock your phone, settling for reading the newest message she could see on the lock screen. “If he’s in town, I should know about it.”

You made another reach for your phone, and she laughed, letting you snatch it away. You leaned away from her, holding the phone close as you unlocked it to read the message privately even though it hardly mattered now.

 **_Ravus:_ ** _You only need say the word._

A small laugh surprised its way out of you, light and covered by your hand as soon as you realized it was happening. It was like he wanted you to order a hit on Ignis.

“What word is he talking about?” Aranea leaned back, looking at you curiously. She didn’t look as amused as she had only seconds before. You felt like you were being analyzed.

There wasn’t so much that could be read into such a short message so you shrugged. “I dunno. You know how cryptic he can get for literally any reason.”

A smirk broke through, growing on her face. You were relieved she’d let it go so easily, still not wanting to say why you’d been crying or why Ravus seemed to feel it was even remotely his problem. He was taking his rekindled role as your support with more seriousness than you would’ve thought, but you couldn’t find yourself surprised at the blunt offer to have Ignis whacked. You were assuming that’s what he meant, at least.

Aranea’s smirk grew wider, though, and your relief dissipated as quickly as it as appeared. “What?”

She nodded, looking pointedly at the tattoo. “You have to tell me what’s going on between you two.”

You groaned into a sigh. The only person so far who hadn’t made a huge deal out of the tattoo was Mom, who was, by all accounts, the only one who _should’ve_ had a problem with it. She just thought it was funny.

“Oh, no. Don’t bother me about this thing. Everybody acts like I’ve made some gigantic mistake like bad tattoos aren’t common.” You looked at it, running a finger over it gently. “I don’t even think it’s that bad.”

“It’s not,” Aranea laughed a little. “It just looks like you’ve pledged yourself to Ravus like a servant. Or a groupie.”

With another sigh, you looked back up at her. “I got it while I was wasted. So every time someone makes a big deal out of it, I lose no matter what I say. I let them assume I’m hot for a holy man or admit that I’m bad at taking care of myself.”

Aranea’s expression softened slightly. “No offense, kid, but I think we’re all well aware of the second part.”

There it was, the soft, well-meant judgement. You let it roll over you, far used to it by now. Ravus’ message came to mind again as you thought about the one person who’d never treated you that way, even though he’d seen you at your worst. It wasn’t until you were done with your cocoa, totally calmed down and on your way back to your place, that you replied.

 **_You:_ ** _I think my slap to his face was recompense enough_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Very well._

He’d been quick to respond as if he were waiting. You smiled, sensing his curt tone in the message. Outside your apartment building, you waffled at the thought that Ignis could still be inside. You considered sending a message to Prompto about it, but you’d probably be waiting all night just for him to notice. Gathering up your courage, you sent another message before heading inside.

 **_You:_ ** _I wish we weren’t so far apart._

Ravus never replied, but you were too relieved to find that Ignis and his girlfriend were gone to care.

—

Noctis and Gladio joined you in seeing Prompto off at the bus station. He had a one way ticket to Hammerhead and beyond. You were a little sad to see him so excited to be leaving you all in the dust.

It was while you were hugging him, making him swear he’d call you when he went beyond the Wall, that he tensed. You let go of him, eyeing his surprised face before looking over your shoulder. A woman, middle aged and round faced, stood nearby with a soft sort of nervousness about her.

“Mom,” Prompto breathed, walking past as you backed out of his way.

This… was kind of weird to you. You’d never once met his parents, neither of them ever finding the time to visit him. He only spoke well of them, but the huge lack of just how _much_ he talked about them always gave you the impression that the relationship was pretty strained. 

As you watched them hug each other, her wishing him well while he teared up, you thought about the personal card you’d given him. Last you knew, he’d tucked it into a place in his bag while packing, waving a dismissive hand at your insistence that he check out the person who’d given the card to you. Now you wondered if it was such a good idea for him to delve into his past. His mom seemed kind enough, and when the bus left with Prompto in it just minutes later, you were left standing with her next to a prince and his shield.

“Wanna hit up that burger place we passed on the way here?” Gladio asked as he tossed a thumb over his shoulder. His expression was harder than usual, but you pretended not to notice.

You nodded, hesitantly looking at Prompto’s mom. An invitation fell from you without consulting the others, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. You had to stop the relief you felt from showing on your face when she shook her head with a soft smile. She said she had to get to work, that she was already late as it was.

You spent the walk to the burger joint wondering if Prompto would hate you for giving him the card later.

—

Summer was welcomed with a stark quiet thanks to Prompto’s absence. You kept opening his bedroom door, giving the empty room a blank stare every few hours. This went on for three days. Then, your internship began, and it was as if you’d signed away your every right to free time. How could you be sad and lonely when you were too busy busting your ass for no pay? It was the Insomnian dream, really.

There were three things you were often told were the worst to work with when filming anything. Children, animals, and mother nature. They could be unpredictable and were usually uncontrollable even in the best of circumstances. It was with very little surprise that you were assigned to be the personal assistant to an actor for the duration of production, something that would take all summer. The only downside was this meant you were to spend the entire season doting on a brash and narcissistic thirteen year old girl who had an important role in the movie.

Within the first two weeks, you befriended her year-round teacher, sharing a work trailer on the lot with him. Between the couch you napped on intermittently and his table of textbooks that you’d not once seen the young actress crack open, you’d found a bit of alleviation in your hectic schedule.

You requested a day off during the Summer Games, completely shocked when it was approved. That was until you realized that a day off meant you still had to come to the studio if anything arose. So it was with a sense of dulled excitement that you went to the Citadel to have tea with your more socially and monetarily fortunate friends.

On the first floor, you planned on charming the same guards near the elevators that always seemed to give you a hard time. You thought, after all the times you’d been in and out of the palace, you would’ve endeared yourself to them in some way, but they were a hardened bunch, unaffected by your wit, it seemed. Before you could even put on your first move, an attendant standing near the elevators approached you, saying your name.

You gave a nod, slowing to a stop in front of them. “Why?”

They didn’t answer, instead smiling and waving a hand for you to follow. You took an elevator up with them, awkwardly smoothing down your top, tapping fingers on your outer thighs, and gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter with each floor you ascended.

“Did they send you because I’m always late?” you asked, trying to break the quiet with a small laugh.

Still no answer from them, just a smile before they faced forward. You frowned, letting your eyes trail around the small space, peering out of the glass backing of the elevator. Everything was tiny, only growing smaller as your distance from the ground increased. You closed your eyes, regretting your curiosity, and tightly gripped one of the railings for the rest of the trip up.

The attendant guided you with a flourish of their hands. It was your own personal magic show, and the trick was getting to the location at a decent time. They finally stopped you outside a set of wide double doors, bending with a bow as they gripped the ornate handle of one and pulled it open. You thanked them, already knowing they weren’t going to answer, and made your way into the room. 

A large parlor awaited, brightly lit from the sunlight that spilled in through large windows. A second attendant took your bag, alarming you for a moment until you watched them lock it away. Faces both familiar and not, looked your way as you went further inside. Most seemed to lose interest immediately upon seeing you, but a lone beacon of white waved you over.

Luna was in a more crowded part of the room, giving you severe hesitance at approaching. She smiled when you shook your head, excusing herself from the people around her to walk to you instead. She didn’t have to weave through like you would’ve, the people giving her a small berth as she met you in the middle of the room. With a gentle grasp of your hand in both of hers, she welcomed you. It didn’t come off as trite as you’d anticipated it to be, a welcome from a princess in a room full of nobility. 

You weren’t able to keep her attention for long, barely moving beyond a base answer to her question of how you were faring before she was called upon by someone else. She squeezed your hand gently in hers before letting go, leaving you to look around the room uncomfortably.

You’d dressed as nicely as you could without overdoing it. It _wasn’t_ for Ignis this time, you told yourself. You were done trying to maintain the facade that you were thriving without him. Although you’d been around him a handful of times since Prompto’s graduation party, you hadn’t so much as sent a word his way. Today, you decided, wouldn’t be any different because there wasn’t any point in trying to reconcile with someone who so clearly hated you.

Such animosity wasn’t normal for you, reaching levels beyond what you’d felt for even your worst ex boyfriend. In the few quiet hours you had to yourself anymore, you let the thoughts and anger over it compile and weigh on you heavily. It was a hard pill to swallow, the fact that the only side of Ignis you were faced with now wasn’t even the one who’d broken your heart. He was a stranger.

You spotted him within minutes, your eyes working against you as they scanned the room for him. He looked unlike himself, noticably thinner. His casually refined state of dress usually reflected his confidence, but he didn’t stand as tall as you knew him to do. Mild concern over this arose, but you took a deep breath in and made yourself walk in a different direction.

There was someone you did want to see, specifically. A friend who’d been clear in his intent to see you, though whose correspondence had somewhat dwindled in the weeks since you’d begun the internship.

At first, you thought Ravus wasn’t in attendance. Annoyance seeped into your expression at the notion. He’d said he wanted to see you, hadn’t he? You hated to think that you might’ve read too much into that. Your friendship may have been more one-sided toward your dependence on him than you’d feared. Well, okay, you hadn’t feared that very much. His complaints had always been _You don’t need me_ rather than _I don’t want you._  You didn’t know what he could possibly garner from associating with you, but let it go on the assumption that you’d just gotten lucky enough to worm your way into his icy little heart.

You found him near a window, in a chair with several women sitting nearby. He didn’t seem to notice them, his attention focused on a book in his hands. To find him reading and keeping to himself didn’t surprise you. Not even at a party. He was just _like that._

Smiling, you made your way toward him, a budding excitement blooming in your chest. It curled outward and set your mind into motion, drawing a surprisingly calm “Ravus” out of you when you reached him. 

He looked up, face blank for a moment before his brows arched in realization, the book closing in his lap. “Hello.”

You sent a glance around at the distinct lack of open seating, choosing to stand awkwardly rather than ask someone to move. This wasn’t something you were good at, pleasantries. You still hated them and probably always would.

“How’s Moonbeam. Does he miss me?” 

Ravus put the book on a short end table next to his chair. “Terribly.”

You huffed a small laugh, eyes moving upward to follow him as he stood. You wanted to hug him, but with all of the Important People watching, even you knew it would be a bad idea. Already, memories were coming back to you of the last time you’d been in the same room with him. You’d neglected the thought, avoided it even, because you couldn’t entertain the confusing situation that had made itself known the last time you’d been together. There were already too many complications in your life for you to deal with.

You could hear the women whispering from their seats that surrounded you, but turning toward them meant you’d have to look away from the soft upward curve that began to pull at the corner of Ravus’ mouth. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it made yours grow in response.

“What about you, papa-gâteau?” You could taste the strangeness of the word on your tongue, so long it had been since you’d said it out loud. “Did you miss me, too?”

His near smile disappeared into a neutral expression, and instead of answering, he asked, “Care for a bite?” 

You nodded before he could even finish the sentence. You’d prepared for this event by not eating breakfast, and you were fully ready to stuff your face on whatever fancy fare there was. Falling in step next to Ravus as you crossed the large reception, you averted your gaze when you passed directly by Ignis and the partygoers he spoke to. You felt a hand press against your upper back between your shoulder blades and looked up at Ravus in question.

“You look well,” he said, leading you toward the tables of food. There were attendants everywhere with serving trays, making a course out of visiting everyone in the room, but you liked having your fill of choices and grinned as you grew closer to the tables.

You elbowed Ravus in the side, purposely bumping into him with a small laugh. His hand slid down and rested at your lower back before falling away. “Thanks. You look better than the last time I saw you.”

He picked up some sort of crudo covered in different herbs. “I looked unwell in Altissia to you?”

Choosing to bypass whatever potential stomach ache Ravus was sure to get by eating raw fish, you picked up a little pancake-looking thing with a bunch of stuff on it. The joy of rich people food; who the hell knew just _what_ you were ingesting. You gave Ravus a nod, eyeing the food suspiciously. “You looked really tired. Did the embassy stuff go well?”

He swallowed the crudo, accepting a glass of some kind of wine from one of the attendants. You pouted a little at the lack of non-alcoholic drinks available. You’d thought this was a _tea_ party. Ravus sipped from the wine, looking down at you thoughtfully.

“It did. I was made to showcase how far I’d come in my healing abilities. The first secretary has…”

You touched the weird food in your hand with the tip of your tongue, immediately deciding the slimy orange orbs on top of the little pancake weren’t your taste. Ravus sighed, taking it from you and eating it in one bite. He washed it down with the rest of the wine, placing the empty glass on the tray of an attendant who passed like clockwork.

“I see you have a distaste for caviar,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he sounded amused. There was no hint of it on his face, but his voice was almost teasing.

You peered at the table covered in different foods of varying levels of edibility. “Is there anything _good_?”

Humoring you, he looked along the platters that covered the tabletop. You were slightly startled when he took your hand in a loose hold, leading you to the other end of the table. He didn’t let it go until he stopped to pick up a round, palm-sized pastry. “Try this.”

It seemed safe enough, but you sent the flaky outer crust a wary look. “What is it?”

“A gougère.” He tore it in half, holding one out for you to take.

You leaned up a little to bite it directly, your lips brushing his fingers before you drew back down to chew thoughtfully. It was somehow still warm, and had a savory, cheesy taste that you liked. You sent Ravus an appreciative smile. “It’s good. Sounds like it comes from Tenebrae?”

He didn’t respond, his expression waning into gentle surprise. His eyes widened before shifting away. The other half of the pastry was offered, then, and you took it with your hand that time. Ravus’ brows drew together as he met your eyes again. 

With a quick intake of breath, he said, “I’ll find something safe for you to drink.”

You nodded at the thoughtful gesture, taking small bites out of the second half of the pastry as he walked away. By the time you had it eaten, your stomach begged for more. Skipping breakfast hadn’t been your best idea. You were eating another gougère and looking for something new when you felt a hand touch your arm. Thinking it was Ravus, returned with something to help you choke down the pastry, you turned around with a smile.

Instead you found Ignis, and your smile waned. You swallowed the bite down roughly, backing away a step and knocking into the table’s edge. What could Ignis possibly want? You weren’t bothering him so as to not cause a scene or upset your mutual friends. It was better this way. He should give you the same courtesy, you thought with a burgeoning irritation.

“Come to make me feel like shit?” you asked, reaching up to dust crumbs from your mouth self-consciously.

Ignis shook his head in short, quick motions, a taut look on his face. Despite the clear irritation, he looked exhausted. “Only need access to the food.”

You looked both ways down the long table, finding very few obstructions for Ignis to be using that as a viable excuse for being near you. With a roll of your eyes, you moved and muttered a sarcastic, “Be my guest.”

He picked something up, inspecting it. “So you’re public now.”

Frown deepening, you stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

Ignis seemed to approve of the food, turning to you with it in his hand. His eyes were sharp, narrowed on you. “You and Prince Ravus. Congratulations on finally admitting the truth. I only wish you’d been courteous enough to admit it to my face.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tear into him, but another voice cut in.

“Bitter words from one who was nothing more than a learning experience,” Ravus said, stopping near you. He handed you a glass of something before crossing his arms.

You looked from one man to the other, sniffing the drink and finding it to just be sparkling juice. Watching them gave you a small bit anxiety at the intensity of their shared stare at each other. You didn’t know if you should excuse yourself to give them a moment of privacy or to throw yourself in between them.

Ignis’ analytical gaze took on a full glare toward Ravus. “How does it feel to receive another man’s unwanted carryover?”

That felt like a hit, square in your gut. You took a drink of the juice and began to back away.

Ravus scowled. “Know your place, Scientia.”

“And where might that be?”

“One step too late.” Ravus’ tone was low, but when you were far enough from them, you realized a few people were already watching. Just great.

You spared one last look at the men before making your way through the room away from them. A small bit of affection had bloomed at Ravus’ clear intent to defend you, but it wasn’t necessary. It only succeeded it making Ignis think he’d been right all along. Getting involved, though the subject did happen to be about you, wasn’t something you wanted to do solely for the reason of protecting yourself.

Seeking out any familiar faces, you were excited to see Noctis. He seemed to be in much the same situation as Luna had been, surrounded by bodies. Only he seemed more bored than anything, simply nodding when you waved. Gladio stood near him, and you thought about going over, but the number of people was just too large for your comfort.

To your luck, you found Mirum not long after. You sat near her on a sette, sipping from your juice with a relieved grin. 

“What’s the hot gossip?”

She rose a brow, crossing her legs to prop an elbow on her knee and look at you. “Currently you, my dear. Nothing is hotter than having two powerful men vying for your attention.”

Your grin dissipated, and you looked into your glass. That wasn’t what was happening, but of course that’s what everyone thought. “Not to sound ungrateful, but I have, like, no time or energy for this shit.” 

Mirum laughed, and as if the gods were trying to spare you just this once, Luna appeared from within the slightly crowded room.  She stopped in front of you, eyes moving between you both.

“Hello, my friends. What is, as they say, the word?” 

Mirum looked from the princess to you, her expression growing further amused. You weren’t going to tolerate that, sighing at the implication that you’d ever laugh at Luna’s genuine attempt to assert herself as a positive force in the life of Noct’s friends.

“We’re just over here failing the Bechdel test.”

Mirum smirked. “I’m happy to speak ill of people regardless of gender.” 

Luna took a seat next to you, light surprise on her face. “Oh? I’d heard from the Marshal you were rather tight lipped,” she said, adopting a soft smile. “In more ways than one.”

Mirum seemed to choke for a moment, a hand coming to her chest in light slaps as she coughed on her drink. You sent a side glance to Luna in sly appreciation, your smile returning but only barely. This was more your line of interest, easy banter between women. Men were too brash and cutting.

_How does it feel to receive another man’s unwanted carryover?_

You downed the rest of your juice, wishing to the gods it was something much stronger.

— 

 **_Work teach:_ ** _The kid is fussy today. She’s refusing her lessons before today’s shoot. They might let her call you in. D:_

Nodding at something Luna said, you reread the message with resignation. You’d known there was a chance you’d have to go to work even on this, your one fucking day off, so this came as no surprise. It wasn’t a minute later that you received another message, confirming the first.

 **_Work child:_ ** _were r u?! get here NOW && bring a rainbow blitz smoothie or ur FIRD _

You could only guess that “FIRD” meant fired, and while you knew she didn’t have that power, it certainly wouldn’t look good on you if she was miserable, however stupid her reasons may be. Children were given that allowance. Her being an actor only boosted her little ego so she was doubly ridiculous.

“I’ve gotta go,” you told Luna, standing up from the sette. You already had your phone’s search engine up, looking for where to find that obnoxious —and maybe a little delicious sounding— smoothie.

The princess stood with you, her soft features morphing into concerned confusion. “An emergency?”

You rolled your eyes. “Work. Tell Ravus it was really nice to see him.”

“You’d leave without a goodbye?”

Gaze shooting up from your phone, you noticed Ravus standing nearby. His arms were crossed, his face hard to read. 

“I have stuff to do,” you said, lifting your phone as if that were any kind of help. “Work stuff. I told you how busy I am.”

He stared down at you. “Such an urgent matter that you must leave now?”

There was no way you were explaining to them just what the matter was. They’d think it was absurd —because it was— and wouldn’t understand that it was your _job_ to do such menial tasks.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. Your phone began to beep again, this time with a succession of impatient messages because you hadn’t responded to the kid’s first one yet. “Sorry I can't stay longer. If I—” You looked down at the messages with a sigh. “If I didn’t think it would bore you, I’d ask you to come with me because I could really use a hand.” It was said jokingly, a small laugh tacked on at the end as you hastily typed a reply to the kid to end her relentless pestering.

“He’d love to help,” Luna spoke up.

Again, your gaze was torn from your phone in surprise. You looked from her to Ravus, who appeared as confused as you were. It was kind of cute, the distinct arch of an eyebrow that only you and his sister could seem to draw out of him. He loosened his arms, dropping them to his sides.

The chiming on your phone finally died down, and you looked at Luna with a growing smile. “Don’t volunteer him without knowing what I’m doing. I don’t think he could handle my line of work.”

Ravus frowned at you next. “I’m up to the task, whatever it may be.”

“Seriously?” You almost laughed. “You wanna miss the first day of the Summer Games just to run errands with me?”

Luna brought a hand to her mouth, ineffectively covering her grin. You shared in her humor, amused that Ravus would let himself get talked into something based on your teasing. He was as stubborn as you could be, it seemed.

His frown eased slightly. “When you put it that way, I suppose I would look quite the fool.”

This time you did laugh, a light sound that escaped before you could stop it. “Great, then stay. I’ll try to make more time to see you before you leave.” 

Nose back in your phone, you gave a small wave and went to the attendant at the entrance to get your bag. While they fetched it, Ravus appeared at your side. You sent him a curious glance, supposing he wasn’t done with the conversation. It wasn’t like you were blowing him off on purpose. You’d looked forward to spending time with him. You’d looked forward to it a lot, actually. It had been your one personal event marked on your busy schedule.

You took your bag from the attendant, tossing the strap over your shoulder. “Really wanna look like a fool, as you said?”

He lifted a hand, running his fingers through his hair. The motion made your mind lull, the hard line of his jaw becoming more apparent with his hair out of the way. You watched the way he dropped his hand again, strands of hair falling down to frame his face despite the attempt to keep them back.

“I’m not opposed to being seen as such,” he said, eyes on yours. “For you.”

You worried your lip between your teeth, eyes widening up at him. That— that was nice. That was— um! Wow. Your mind was forced from its lull with the hard thump of your heart. You took hold of his sleeve, pulling him with you through the door that the attendant held open. Down the corridor, just after hearing the heavy door shut, you stopped to let go and turn on him.

He appeared mildly confused all over again, and you released your lip to smile as you threw your arms around his middle. Hiding the growing flush of your cheeks in the soft fabric of his robes, you let out a soft sigh.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

A moment before you thought to let go, he returned the hug. He drew you close, and you settled in his arms, wishing you’d just done this the moment you’d seen him like you’d wanted. If prying eyes were going to believe what they wanted anyway, as Ignis made apparent, you no longer saw a point in trying to play down how much you cared about the prince.

—

A rainbow blitz smoothie was a branded drink served at one particular chain of cafes. There were only three locations in existence, two of which were in Insomnia. You left the Citadel, walking out into the summer heat with a glance toward Ravus and his long coat.

“You’re gonna be hot.”

He didn’t seem to understand at first, blinking before looking down at what he wore. “These are my summer robes. I should be fine.”

You shrugged because it wasn’t really your problem. The GPS on your phone said the closest cafe was three blocks away, which didn’t warrant a train ride. So you set off on the immense amount of steps down the public entrance of the Citadel to walk the distance.

“So I was thinking,” you said, making your pace as quick as you could. “About how you hate movies. I came up with an idea.”

Ravus kept up easily, his longer legs keeping him at your side. “I never claimed to hate them but go ahead.”

You stopped at a crosswalk and turned to him after pressing the button. “What’s your favorite book?”

He nodded his head toward the crosswalk for you to pay attention, and you crossed the street with an impatient look at him.

“I have several.”

You pulled out your phone to check that you were going the right way. The air was hot and wetter than usual, a mugginess enveloping you more with each passing second. It must’ve rained on this end of the city recently. You pulled on the delicate collar of your nice shirt.

“Okay, but what are they?” you asked. “Or can you summarize? A general theme or something.”

It was a while before he replied, long enough that you thought the din of the city had swallowed his answer. The GPS said you were almost there so you put your phone away and looked back up at him.

“They’re about crime and injustice,” he finally said, expression still a bit confused. It was like no one had ever asked him this question; it was _that_ foreign to him. 

You nodded, keeping an eye out for the cafe. “So like… intrigue?”

“In a way.” He seemed to relax, his expression easing into something neutral. “Class disparity from a common person’s perspective is often the focus.”

That was incredibly specific. You needed a moment to consider that, wracking your brain for all the movie knowledge it contained. 

“Are you going to tell me what it is we’re doing?”

Your train of thought halted at his question. Right. You were getting away from yourself, there. It had just been so long since you’d actually talked to him— to _anyone,_ really. The internship had cut your conversations in half, and your mind was overflowing with things you wanted to discuss with someone you felt like you could truly be yourself around. But it was only fair to slow down and do one thing at a time. He was ditching a major social responsibility just to hang out with you, after all.

“We’re getting a smoothie for my teenage charge.” You brightened at the sight of the cafe. “It shouldn’t take that long.”

Except, as usual, it wasn’t that easy.

The cafe didn’t serve rainbow blitz smoothies anymore. They were out of season and wouldn’t come back until next spring. When the unenthusiastic barista told you this, followed by a joking statement about it still being offered at the restaurant chain’s Lestallum location, you felt like screaming. Instead, you bought something similar and handed it to Ravus as you sat at one of the cafe tables and scoured the internet for knock-off recipes of the drink.

“Don’t drink it,” you said, peeking up at him when he grew impatient enough to sit across from you at the table.

He shook his head a little as he looked away. “As if I would.”

You smirked at the sour look overtaking his face and returned to your hunt. It took less than five minutes to find something doable. Then, you were dragging him out of the cafe and on to the nearest market.

— 

You rose onto the tips of your toes and reached for the food coloring. It was heinously located at the very top of a high shelf in the store.

“Have you seen Seven Samurai?” you asked, grunting a little in your struggle. “It’s kind of about injustice and the lower class. Plus it has action.”

Ravus, still holding the smoothie, leaned past you, reaching an arm up to grab the package for you. You felt him against your back, and you tensed at how delicate it made you feel to have his muscle pressed so closely and his height be so apparent.

“I haven’t,” he answered as he backed away.

You turned around to take the package from him and shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Y-you should.” 

More films came to mind, but you stuck to just suggesting the one. He’d be more likely to actually watch it. You hoped. It was a travesty that one of your best friends didn’t like movies. Though, you were now feeling strangely shy about how aggressive you were being over this perceived issue. Were you just annoying him with all of your pestering? There was a very real chance he didn’t find it as endearing as you hoped. 

Moving on to the next thing on your impromptu shopping list, you suddenly felt like asking, “How old are you?”

The question earned you a glance, but he seemed to take it in stride. “Thirty.”

You nodded, absorbing that information. You’d never thought to ask, but it was about what you would’ve guessed. He was quiet, then, and you wondered what he was thinking as he looked around the market.

“Not gonna ask me my age?”

He shook his head. “Rather impolite, wouldn’t you say?”

You grinned at the suggestion that you’d even care. 

“I’m twenty two.” Once the words were out of your mouth, you worried he’d find that off-putting. You were even younger than his younger sister. Adulthood was really only beginning for you, and he was, ostensibly, way beyond that. Letting these thoughts get to you, you blurted, “I’ll be twenty three soon, though.”

His eyes found yours, the hint of a smile threatening his face. “I find your immaturity less shocking now.” 

More surprised at the expression on his face than his actual words, you felt a blush come to your cheeks, warm and unwelcome. “And your old man tendencies make sense now, too.”

He rolled his eyes, but the near smile didn’t disappear. “Let’s get this pointless task over with.”

Leading him down another aisle toward the rainbow sprinkles, you tried and failed to stamp down on the warm, constricting feeling in your chest.

—

A detour to your apartment had to be made on your way to the studio so you could concoct a somewhat acceptable version of that gods damned smoothie. You weren’t appropriately self conscious about the state of cleanliness —or lack thereof— in your place until you pointed Ravus toward the living room and watched him step widely over a pile of laundry.

You dumped the slowly liquefying smoothie from the to-go cup and handfuls of ice into your blender. Ravus reappeared from your living room, apparently choosing to stand in the kitchen rather than be around your discarded undergarments scattered about the place.

“I see that—”

You pressed the button on the blender, the loud, grating sound of it drowning out Ravus’ words. With a look over your shoulder, you caught him giving you an unamused look. Laughing slightly, you turned off the blender. 

“What were you saying?”

“You live in a slum. Can you—”

Gaping at him, you slapped a hand on the lid to the blender and switched it on again. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms, a look of irritation trained on you as you let the blender do its work. 

Finally turning it off, you peered down into the mixed up contents and grumbled, “I think I’ve been insulted enough today, thanks.”

You heard him sigh. Turning to him with the jar of icy mush, you put it on the counter and challenged his continued irritation with a rise of your brow.

It didn’t work to shut him up. “Scientia, at the party... Why do you allow him to speak to you like that?”

That hadn’t been what you’d expected him to ask. You broke into the food coloring, considering the question. “I don’t _let_ him. He’s just a broken record who hates me.” Going between the things you had on the counter and the recipe you had pulled up on your phone, you began to carefully add coloring and sprinkles to the contents of the blender. “You didn’t have to come to my defense, y’know.”

“I will so long as you fail to defend yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, keeping yourself focused on the task at hand. “I don’t care if you have a crush on me or— or whatever,” you said, making a vague motion with your hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He made a disgruntled noise, as if clearing his throat. “A crush? Don’t be childish.”

It took a moment for that to register, and you slowly looked up at him. “Oh.”

So… he wasn't into you? That was definitely more believable than the opposite thought; a prince actually having interest in you beyond a brief altercation abroad was laughable. This was exactly why you hadn’t given the idea much thought since your time together in Altissia. You knew better than to hope, and you had a multitude of reasons _not_ to. Meeting his eyes in the dim light of the kitchen, you felt your face flush, a burning humiliation that you could feel deep in your chest. It was too late to pretend you hadn’t already made the assumption.

“I think,” he said, eyeing you carefully. “You avoid rather than defend because you still love him.”

There went another line you hadn’t anticipated. You let out a small, breathy laugh, going back to the blender to finish the makeshift drink. Blending it one last time, you poured the finished concoction back into the to-go cup and asked, “How do you do that, Ravus?” 

He didn’t answer, and you put the lid back onto the cup with a little more force than necessary. 

With a look up at him, you felt the embarrassment bite at you even further. “Am I that transparent?”

Remaining quiet, he took the smoothie when you held it out. His silence, as it often did, spoke volumes. You made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning up, swiping a hand over the counter to collect all the sprinkles you’d dropped everywhere.

“I wish I could just _will_ love to end,” you began to vent. “For myself, I mean. Not for, like, nefarious purposes. Mostly. I just wanna be free at this point, y’know?” 

Ravus hummed as if he did know, and you kept going.

“Sometimes, I look at what he’s doing online. We’re still friends on everything. I just have him muted.” You dumped the sprinkles into the trash and dusted off your hands. “So I’ll spend, um, half a night seeing all the fun things he’s doing without me. It always makes me feel _so_ fucking sick, but I keep doing it.” You let out a self deprecating laugh and looked at him.

He gazed down at you, expression stern but searching, as if his eyes couldn’t settle on just one feature of your face.

“I wish you’d say something,” you blurted. “Like, anything.”

Lifting the smoothie, he said, “Let’s finish this menial, degrading task.”

You took a deep breath in and let it go, appreciating that he wasn’t filling the air with useless words of wisdom. You weren’t sure they’d work on you right now.

—

You left Ravus by craft services. People did it with their kids sometimes so you felt like it was a safe place to leave a grown man, too. It seemed like a bad idea to just have an Oracle wandering around the studio with you. It was lucky enough that you hadn’t been stopped or stared at while you’d been off trying to find the smoothie ingredients.

Standing outside the trailer of the young actress, you knocked on the door with the smoothie in hand. It burst open seconds later, nearly smacking into you. Half of her face was covered in makeup, one of her eyes donning a false lash.

“I told you to do it over an hour ago,” she said, taking the cup from your hand. The condensation on the outside of it made the action slippery, and she glared at you as if it were your fault she almost dropped it. “You couldn't get here _before_ hair and makeup? I can’t have this _now_.”

“It’s wasn’t easy to find,” you were quick to explain. “I had to—”

She tore the lid from the cup, stopping you mid sentence by dumping the smoothie onto your shirt. It splattered upward on impact, hitting your breasts and misting your face before dripping down your top in shallow, icy waves.

You gasped, backing away and pulling at the front of your shirt to alleviate the chill that suddenly ran through you. She stepped out of the doorway just enough to grab the handle and pull the door closed. 

Sputtering and pissed, you went to your own trailer not far away to clean yourself up. The kid’s Teacher wasn’t in when you clambered inside, which was fine because you needed to get back to Ravus soon before he wandered off and got into trouble.

You removed the largest bits of smoothie from your top with a hand, washing it off under the tap at the miniscule kitchen sink. Then you wiped at the rest of it with a napkin, unsure of how you were actually going to fix this. Several minutes were spent this way, your anger dying down into a minor annoyance. The Teacher stepped inside while you were counting down the ways you’d show the kid some manners, if ever given the chance.

“There was some guy in full Oracle costume hanging around craft services and asking for you,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “He’s waiting outside.”

You slowed in your pointless effort to get rid of the cold stickiness on your front and leaned toward the window of the trailer to pull down the blinds with a finger. Ravus stood across the alley, attention moving about the place as people passed with props. No one paid any attention to him, and you smiled, realizing now how silly it was to worry that _he_ would be the weirdest-looking individual around.

“Is that… I mean, he looks pretty mad so is he…” Teach hemmed and hawed, like you were learning he often did. “The guy you’ve mentioned?”

He meant Ignis. Because Teach was impartial and, nine times out of ten, you would arrive on set with something to say about your _ex-boyfriend that you were_ **_definitely_ ** _not still in love with, but can you_ **_believe_ ** _what he’s done this time?_ He didn’t know names or titles, only that you were a woman scorned. It seemed fair since he always complained about his own on-again, off-again partner. Your shared trailer was basically the bitch session capital of Eos.

“Nah,” you said with a small laugh, letting the blinds drop closed again. You tossed the napkin in the bin, amusement dampening as you looked down at your ruined shirt. It had been one of your nicer ones, exactly why you’d worn it to the Citadel. “He’s a good friend.”

Teach hummed. “I—okay, neat. Didn’t know you were getting close to the actors.”

You frowned and looked up from your shirt. “Huh?”

“He’s still dressed for that modern retelling of the first Oracle’s story they’re doing two studios away.” He shrugged. “I’m glad you’re finally moving on from the other guy. He seemed… I don’t know. Bad?”

A small smile came to you. Of course he’d think that. You only ever told him the terrible things about Ignis. “Nice word choice. Aren’t you supposed to be a teacher?”

Another shrug, and he chuckled. “It’s good is— is all I’m saying. It’s the first time you’ve come in and not thrown something across the room.” 

That hadn’t occurred to you. Even with the unfortunate incident with the smoothie, you were much calmer than usual while on set.

“I’m usually in a permanent state of exhaustion.” You pulled at the hem of your top, giving it one last examination. It was a lost cause. “Ig— he and I have the same friends so I feel like I’m trapped sometimes. My friend waiting outside is the only one we don’t share so it’s… nice. I can be myself.” 

He nodded and began to gather different books that were strewn across his table. “It’s good to meet other people. Maybe I should start fooling around with the actors, too.”

You shook your head at him on your way to the door. “Whoever said we were fooling around?”

“With— with a guy like _that,_ ” he said, gesturing toward where Ravus was outside. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Holding back a laugh and the urge to ask just what kind of guy he thought Ravus looked like, you stepped out of the trailer. With a wave to get Ravus’ attention, you crossed the alley to stand in front of him. He shoved off from the wall he’d been leaning on, uncrossing his arms. His gaze immediately went to your chest, the frown on his face growing.

“My charge had an accident,” you said with no intention of offering an actual explanation. You stepped closer to him as a group of workers passed with equipment. “I’m gonna head home now. I dunno where you go for the Summer Games, but I bet there’s still… swimming or something left for you to watch.” 

Ravus shook his head, his curious glance lingering on your wet shirt before he averted his gaze. “I’ll join you, if you’ll have me.”

You snorted at the way he said it, like it was a bigger declaration than him just admitting he wanted to hang out some more. “Of course I’ll have you, papa-gâteau. Do you like pizza?”

—

Ravus was a little less disturbed on his second visit to your apartment, still warily eyeing your laundry of dubious cleanliness that littered the floor. Well, he was less disturbed _at first._

It had become a habit since you’d had the place to yourself, just walking inside after a long day and stripping anywhere you pleased. Such a habit that, when you walked through the hallway and into the living room, it wasn’t until Ravus sucked in a quick breath that you realized you’d already taken your shirt off.

You tried not to laugh at the uncomfortable blush on his scowling face. Touching your cleavage, sticky from the smoothie, you walked toward your bedroom. “I’ll be a minute. If the pizza comes, just answer the door.”

Cleaning yourself up properly in the bathroom, your “minute” became fifteen, and you returned to the living room fully dressed to find Ravus sitting on your couch. He looked entirely out of place, so much so that you did laugh when he motioned toward the pizza box on your coffee table.

“Have you just been sitting in silence this whole time?” you asked, taking a seat next to him.

His eyes raked over you, probably relieved you were no longer indecent.

While you’d been cleaning up, an idea had come to you over just what you could do to entertain him. It would kill two birds with one stone, really. So you flipped open the pizza box, taking out a slice and digging in as you navigated the internet on the gaming console Prompto had left behind. Seven Samurai was a classic you hadn’t seen in a long time, anyway.

It was with apparent reservation that Ravus began to eat, too. You’d let him choose what kind of pizza you ordered, and you kept picking off the toppings you didn’t like to put on his piece. At first, he held it out of your reach, frowning at you for invading his space. By the second slice, he let you pile what you didn’t want on top of his before you ate yours.

It was with an immensely comfortable silence that you both settled into the movie.

Halfway through, you poked his thigh, excited about what was happening plot-wise. “This part—”

“Shhh.” He hushed you by dropping a hand over yours, putting an end to your prodding. His attention didn’t leave the tv. You looked at his profile, a swell of pride overcoming you because he was _so_ into this. You’d done a good job picking out a movie to convert him with. 

His hand was warm and calloused, covering yours completely. You wiggled your fingers, turning your hand over to press your palm against his, comparing the size. When your index finger slowly traced his palm, he turned to you with a frown.

“Must you distract?”

He gripped your hand, lacing his fingers with yours to hold it still while he returned his attention to the movie. You bit your lip to hold back a smile and rested against his side. He didn’t seem to realize what he was doing, and you were more than okay with that.

—

You could sense more than actually see the way the tension left his body the moment your fingertips delved into his hair. It was always as soft as you imagined, this time being no exception despite the eventful day tousling it with small knots. You worked them out gently, fingertips moving from his nape to the crown of his head. He eased further, leaning back so his shoulders rested against your legs.

You’d looked up a lot of different braids, never wanting to do the same thing twice in a row, but nothing special was coming to mind now. So, rather than think too long or hard on something so trivial, you began a simple plait, focusing on the task to ease your mind and take your thoughts off of the day you’d had. Most of it had been good, at least.

_How does it feel to have another man’s unwanted carryover?_

“So,” you began, tongue peeking from between your lips as you forced that persisting memory away and concentrated on the task. “You gonna tell me that my life sucks now that you’ve seen a day of it?”

He shifted on the pillow you’d thrown onto the floor for him. Goosebumps rose on the back of his neck, a sign that he was enjoying your attention. You knew he’d never tell you himself, so little indicators like that helped to remind you that this ritual wasn’t overstepping any of his boundaries.

“I could say as much,” he said. “You live in a cramped space, and you’re treated unkindly at your workplace. But it has clearly taught you engenuity, creativity, and… a distinct loathe for cleaning.”

You grinned, twisting locks of his hair. Parts of the braid kept falling loose, shorter than the rest, but you let it go because he wasn’t a doll, and it didn’t have to be perfect. “So what did you think of the movie?”

You’d waited to ask, giving him time to form thoughts about it before pressuring him immediately after the film. Your fingertips trailed along his head, deftly grabbing more hair to join the rest in the plait.

“I found it acceptable.”

Your hands slowed to a stop, locks of hair wrapped around and between your fingers. “Wait, that’s all? But it looked like you were enjoying it.”

He turned his head to look back at you, but you made him face forward, hand firmly on his jaw, before returning to card through his hair again.

“Hold still, papa-gâteau.”

He sighed. “Why do you think I didn’t enjoy it?”

You tied off the braid with a hairband you’d left on your wrist. “Because you show zero enthusiasm.” Now that you’d said it aloud, the whole argument seemed moot. He didn’t show enthusiasm for anything.

Getting up from the couch, you pushed the coffee table farther away to sit in front of him. He remained quiet, eyes following your movements as you pulled pins from your own hair to put in his. With all the loose strands in place, you admired your work. You had to admit it suited his angular face. He looked prim like a proper Oracle.

You let out a small snort when he stared at you for a moment too long. Maybe it was _too_ severe a look for such a stern face. As you began to remove a couple of the pins, he lifted a hand, the back of his fingers brushing along your cheek. You froze as his knuckles pushed back the hair that had fallen into your face when you’d pulled the pins out.

He leaned forward, and your breaths became shallow, lips parting in sudden anticipation. His eyes drew closed, his palm sliding from your cheek to rest below your ear to draw you close. Nose brushing yours, he lingered there. Your mouth only a breath apart from his, you lowered your hands from his head to rest them at his chest. His heartbeat was solid, and it steadied you.

Voice low, his words brushing your lips, he asked, “May I?”

“Please.” It came out quickly and with an amused insistence you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in.

He closed the short distance, lips pressing against yours firmly. The touch sparked an excitement that made your heart pick up its paces. It was slow at first, his lips brushing yours in soft movements as if he were testing, figuring out the right rhythm. You encouraged him, fingers gripping at the front of his robes to draw him nearer.

Relaxing into you, his mouth worked against yours in more assured movements. He nipped at your lower lip, pulling at it between his teeth before letting go and meeting your mouth again. His hold at your neck let him kiss you harder, and you met it with an eagerness you hadn’t known was in you.

When he pulled away, you blinked your eyes open. Confusion pooled into your mind, accompanied by excitement and a want for more.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a crush on me,” you said quietly, your gaze flicking from one of his eyes to the other. 

He licked a lip, looking away for a moment with a small frown. “It’s becoming strikingly apparent that you never read my first attempt at correspondence with you.”

Okay? You let go of his robes to sit back and look at him fully. This sounded oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place where he’d mentioned something like this before. “What are you talking about?”

He faced you, eyes meeting yours. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

A quick huff of a sigh escaped you. “Are you just playing with me?”

“I should be asking that of you.”

You shook your head. “Don’t turn it around on me, Ravus. You know everything about me, even the stuff I tell nobody else. All I know about you is that you don’t make sense.”

With arched brows to show your frustration, you began to count, on your fingers, different points as you thought them. “You hate holding hands, but you’ll hold mine. Actually, you act like you hate _all_ touching, but I know you secretly like it. You hate being alone, yet you push people away. You supported me getting with another guy and then made a move on me. I know I asked for it, but you could’ve said—”

He interrupted you with a kiss, sudden and chaste, one of his hands coming to the nape of your neck. You sputtered as he drew back, your fingers falling into your lap. Without waiting for permission, he kissed you again, his hand holding you firmly in place. His other came to your waist in a gentle grip to bring you closer. 

The attention of his mouth on yours was more fervent this time, hot movements as he opened himself up to you, tilting his head to invite himself into your mouth. You moaned involuntarily, not having felt this in so long. His tongue met yours, and there was no hint of the hesitation that had been there all previous times he’d kissed you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, letting loose the braid. Chest falling flush against his for a moment, you pressed him back against the couch. He stopped you from climbing onto his lap, his hand at your waist keeping you at bay. His fingers curled in your hair, catching a light grip that he used to tilt your head back. 

He broke the kiss, moving his lips down your neck in wet, biting caresses. A shuddered breath escaped you under his touch. He ended at your collar, his nose brushing the hollow of it. You could feel the heaving of his breath against your skin, feel it in his chest as it rose and fell.

“To call it a crush would be an insult to what I feel.” His voice was low and heavy with meaning. He rose his head, looking at you softly. His hand left your hair, tucking more of it behind an ear before dropping away. “I won’t pretend this isn’t a complicated matter, and I’ve no wish to impose myself upon you. I can be no clearer.”

The feeling of his mouth on you lingered, on your skin, your lips. A familiar pull of affection burned from someplace deep within. You realized, all at once, that it had been restraint, not hesitation, that had guided his romantic advances. Sporadic as they were, given your distance from one another, his intentions had been nothing but straightforward and sincere, if a bit ill-communicated.

Now you wanted to go through all of your previous messages and emails to find any clues you might’ve missed since he seemed to think you should already known how he felt. You pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind when Ravus frowned at your prolonged silence.

You nodded, feeling your face grow warm. “You’re right. It’s complicated.” Lowering your eyes because his were becoming far too soft for your comfort, you followed the subtle lines on the hems of his robes. You touched one, tracing the stitching with a finger.

Ravus ended your stalling with a hand covering yours, holding it against his chest. Lifting your head, you met his eyes and felt your inner guards fall away completely. Your hand curled in his, grasping his robes to pull yourself toward him. He met you readily, far better at this kissing thing than he had been so far.

You melted into the comfort of him and let yourself be reminded of how wonderful it felt to let someone so close.

— 

“Give me your carbuncle.”

You paused in cleaning up the pizza box to send Ravus a look of confusion. “I’m not familiar with that pickup line.”

He held out a hand, raising a brow impatiently.

“Oh, right,” you laughed when you realized. You tucked the pizza box under an arm and withdrew the carbuncle from your pocket to toss it his way. “Catch.”

When you’d broken down the box, feeling good about doing something that was _almost_ like cleaning, you returned to your living room to find Ravus doing that weird thing again. With the glowy hands and the closed eyes. You sat next to him on the couch, watching curiously.

He opened his eyes, the light from his palms disappearing as he pulled them away from each other. Still, the carbuncle doll looked the same, small in his hands. He sighed, scowling at it for a long moment.

“What are you trying to do?”

He looked over as if only now noticing your presence. “I’m attempting to bless it.”

You reached out for the doll, and he dropped it into your palm. “Shouldn’t you be saying a cute little rhyme or something when you do it?” Holding it between your palms, much like he did, you said, “Thank you, gods, for my… powerful quads. Please bless this doll for my small…” You giggled. “Friend. Okay, you’re right. It’s not easy.”

His expression was hard to read, a neutral look that made your smile wane when you looked over at him. Putting the carbuncle away, you chewed on your lip and waited for him to say something. To point out how childish you were being. Maybe even say you shouldn’t make fun of Oracle practice.

Instead, he smiled, eyes falling away from yours to look about the room. You felt your chest constrict tightly at the sight of it.

“Thanks for trying,” you said, voice suddenly thick. You cleared your throat and drew your legs up. “I didn’t know you could bless things.”

He inhaled a deep breath, letting it go when facing you again. “I can’t. Not yet. But I will when I’ve gained the power and practice, gods willing.”

As much as you enjoyed talking with him, this much religious talk wasn’t something you were crazy about. So you bent your knees underneath yourself, moving closer to him on the couch. “Wanna make out?”

He blinked, his smile fading completely. “Is that _your_ idea of a pickup line?”

With a shrug, you played with one of the fasteners at the front of his robes. “More of an invitation.”

His gaze went between you and your hand at his chest. The catch of his breath was so subtle, you almost didn’t notice. Then, he pulled you to him, reaching an arm about your waist without warning. You laughed into the kiss, feeling like his presence was blessing enough.

—

Disappointment sank your spirits when Ravus left for the Citadel later in the evening. You told him you’d be too busy to see him again before he left the city. He told you he’d call you more often. Given his track record for open honesty, you believed him.

He left you with sore lips and a lot to consider. He hadn’t let you get far, any wandering hands captured and stopped by his own. But he’d let you take what you could of his lips without reservation, something that seemed like a huge deal for a man like Ravus, who, you were beginning to think, had never had a lover before.

Not wanting to get ahead of yourself —the confusion and rush of hormones were still fresh— you fought the urge to send him a goodnight message. You checked your phone anyway as you were getting ready for bed, hoping for even the smallest indication that you were still on his mind just as he was on yours. Instead, you noticed a missed call from Ignis.

Suddenly, it felt like your heart was in your throat, heavy and thick as you checked the details. He’d called hours before, while you’d been watching the movie with Ravus. Your thumb hovered over the callback button, but doubt and thoughts of your minor altercation earlier in the day made you decide against it. His reasons for calling were entirely unpredictable to you. If it was important, you told yourself, he’d try again later.

Despite the eventful day, you had a difficult time falling asleep. For the first time in weeks, it had nothing to do with internet stalking your ex boyfriend to the point of stomach pain. You rolled over in your bed, eyeing the laundry and junk that littered the floor. It wasn’t just your hectic schedule that kept you from cleaning. You’d been declining ever since Prompto had left.

You touched your mouth softly with your fingertips and promised yourself you’d clean up your life soon.

—

It ended up being a lie, what you told Ravus before he left your apartment. You were able to spare half an hour to see him off on his last day in the city. He left with a small amount of pomp and circumstance that he seemed used to because of his station. A cortège of three cars waited for him outside the grand entrance of the Citadel. At the top of the steps, you saw him off with the more important people of Noct’s retinue.

Ravus gave a simple nod to Noctis and let Luna grasp one of his hands in both of hers with a light squeeze. When it was your turn, he gave another small nod, stopping to stand in front of you. Grinning up at him, you nodded in return before, uncaring of the inappropriateness, you wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tightly. There was a delay before he reacted, a stillness about him. Then you felt him return the embrace, a hand smoothing down your hair to hold you close to his chest.

“Be well until we meet again,” he said when you pulled apart. His expression was stern, but it didn’t detract from the fondness you felt at the words.

“Hopefully that’ll be soon.” You shifted your weight from foot to foot, not nearly as poised as everyone else present.

The rest of Noct’s retinue weren’t given any sort of farewell. You watched Ravus walk down the steps to the cortège that waited, practically _feeling_ Ignis looking at you from three people down the farewell party. He hadn’t called you again, and it only served as a reminder that if you ever wanted to work anything out with him, you would have to be the first one to reach out.

—

It was over. Not just the internship, not just your constant studies. Your university years were finished. Summer graduates didn’t have a ceremony, a wonderful thing for you because you couldn’t think of anyone who would come to cheer you on aside from Mom. You were going to visit her soon and then break away from Insomnia in some way. Go on a standard, post-grad soul searching journey, maybe.

Altissia seemed out of reach, not for lack of funds —though they were a tad sparse— but lack of motivation. Graduating left you feeling proud but empty. If you went directly to Altissia, you’d feel like a failure if you didn’t immediately do great things, and you weren’t of a mind to do great things just yet. Living sounded nice. Just existing for a while.

Prompto called the day you picked up your diploma. You expected a congratulations but received a stuttered, “D-dude!”

Throwing yourself into the couch, you laughed. “Hi, Prom.”

He wasted no time. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you say anything? You just gave me the card! What if I lost it?”

Rolling over to look at the ceiling, you absorbed the information he spilled on you through the line. “You looked him up? Finally.”

He sighed. “I would’ve done it sooner if you just told me.” 

“Told you what, exactly?”

He sighed again, this time ending it with a whine. “I dunno. That I have a _brother_.”

“Is—” You sat up. “Is that what he is? Did you talk to him?”

A silence stretched for several seconds. “No. Not yet.”

You looked at the large envelope on the coffee table that held your diploma. “You called to yell at me first.”

“I _called_ ,” he said, sounding calmer. “To say congrats. It took you long enough to catch up to me.” 

You smiled, perking up when you heard a knock at the front door. Not expecting anyone, you hopped up and ran across the apartment to look through the peephole. “Prompto… did you send me flowers?”

He hummed as if busy thinking. “Nah, don’t think I did. Why?”

You held the phone to your shoulder, opening the door to give the delivery person standing in the stairwell a confused look. “You might be at the wrong place.”

They gave you a wide eyed look and said your name, ending it with a questioning tilt of their head.

Surprised that they _weren’t_ at the wrong door, you nodded. “That’s me.”

They gave an exaggerated look of relief, then held the bouquet out to you with a flourish. You took it with even more surprise, watching blankly as they walked down the stairs and disappeared. Prompto’s voice rang from the phone, and you lifted it to your ear to listen.

“—going on? Hello?”

“I got flowers.”

He let out a snicker. “From who?” 

Walking back to the living room, you searched the flowers for any sign of its sender. A small card was attached to the bouquet, and you accidentally tore it when trying to pry it from the twine that held the bundle together. With the flowers carefully placed on the table, you sat and held the two halves of the card together.

_Congratulations, ma crevette._

A slow smile came to you, and you put the ripped card down to appreciate the flowers more. “Ravus.”

Prompto whistled, and it rang in your ear. “Sounds serious.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “He just knows that a _true_ friend sends something nice when I graduate. Not calling and making a fuss.” 

“A true friend tells me when they meet a guy who looks just like me,” he countered readily.

He couldn’t have been planning to guilt you over this for long, and you weren’t going to let him play that card just so he could catch any hot gossip you might’ve forgotten to tell him. There was nothing he didn’t already know. Ravus was just being surprisingly… thoughtful.

You looked at the flowers again and laughed at yourself for becoming so excited over such a small thing. 

— 

Removing Ignis completely from your life wasn’t something you wanted to do, but it seemed impossible to move forward any other way. You had to let go of him, if not just romantically, then entirely. While working through this, you realized that getting rid of some parts were much more difficult than others.

As your apartment began to empty, things being sold, others being donated, you found yourself left with nothing else but the hardest things to let go of. The bracelet he’d bought you for the last winter holiday had been easy to sell, given its high quality. You’d only worn it twice so putting it into a box to ship out in the morning left you with no ill feelings. The cactuar plush, on the other hand, had been difficult to part with. You’d donated it to a thrift store several blocks away, witnessing the small daughter of a shopper picking it up into a hug before you’d even left the place. You’d never wanted to shove a kid that hard before.

You were down to only a few things now, and were remiss to find reasons to let them go. They were practical, you told yourself. Ignis’ crownsguard sweats were luxurious —despite a hole in the seam of the top’s collar— and you could wear them until they were rags. The pen you’d commissioned for Ignis was out of ink, you’d used it so much. These were things you actually utilized all the time, which was exactly why you needed to part with them.

A buyer online had won the pen when you’d put it up for auction. The gil was already in your account. You just needed to ship it to them now. It lay in its original box on your coffee table next to a bigger box of odds and ends you planned to give to Ignis before leaving town. A handkerchief he’d lent you while visiting Tenebrae, some random things that weren’t actually his but reminded you of him, and the notebook he’d mailed to you that was filled to the brim with every detail of his side of your love story.

You picked up the small notebook, running fingers over the soft leather cover. This was what needed to go the most, its sole purpose and existence a byproduct of what you used to have with Ignis. You flipped through it, reading the occasional passage and growing more reluctant to give it back. Once you did that, it would go up on a shelf to collect dust next to the one he’d written about Gladio. Or maybe he’d trash it.

Closing the notebook, you gripped it tightly between both hands. Your feelings for Ignis may have soured and waned into a muted reflection of what it had been, but you considered your time with him an important part of your life. It had been special, in its own way. Without Ignis, you’d probably still be going through bodies and wasting away.

You made the choice before you could overthink it any further, taking the notebook to your bedroom and putting it in your suitcase. If Ignis was going to dispose of it anyway, which seemed likely, you’d rather keep the positive memories of your past for yourself. 

While cleaning —you optimistically wanted to get most of your deposit back— you were startled out of your deep introspection over the notebook by a knock at the front door. No one visited anymore, especially now that you were moving out, so you went to the door with mild wariness.

The broom you’d been holding clattered to the floor. You backed away from the peephole only to check again just to be sure. Ignis stood in the stairwell. He had something large and black hanging from a raised hand and a look of trepidation on his face. You righted the broom, leaning it against a wall, and gave yourself a quick once over. As you considered quickly changing before answering the door, he knocked again. 

Your heart jumped at the insistence of it. There was no time to make yourself presentable. You gripped the handle and opened the door just enough to look at him. “Oh, hey.”

Ignis met your eyes, lifting what you could now see was a dry cleaning bag in his hand. “I’ve come to return something of yours.”

Right. You blinked, eyes going to the bag but finding no sight of what could be inside. Opening the door fully, you waved him in.

He stepped inside and followed you into the living room. You’d sold your couch already, and Prompto’s things had been given to his mom for safekeeping while he was gone. The space was empty save for the junky coffee table and the few boxes of things you still needed to get rid of. You were about to start completely fresh, yet here Ignis was bringing you one more thing you’d probably have to get rid of.

You gave him a subtle once over while he took in your emptied place. He seemed worse than he had before, his suit not fitting quite as well as it should. His eyes were hollow, something you wouldn’t have been able to tell upon first glance because of his glasses. Worry flooded your mind with questions, but you stamped down on them. Whatever stress he was dealing with, it wasn’t your problem.

He handed the dry cleaning bag to you, explaining before you could open it up. “It’s the dress you left at my flat last year.”

You nodded in understanding, finding the bag heavier than you expected. “Thanks,” you said as you switched the hook of the bag from one hand to the other, finding it uncomfortable either way.

He nodded, and you noticed then that his hair wasn’t it’s usual, proper ‘do. Strands fell across his forehead, giving him a more disheveled look as you took greater note of his appearance. “My partner noticed it in my closet and didn’t want it to get mixed up in her own wardrobe.”

That made you stop shifting on your feet, the pain of his words an echo of what you would’ve felt just a month before. Still, it hurt to hear. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing a nod out of yourself. “Makes sense. I have stuff to give you, too. There’s a box on the coffee table for you. Give me a sec to put this away.”

You went to your room, dumping the dress atop the sleeping bag that had replaced your bed two days before. It was better this way, you told yourself as you gathered together both parts of his Crownsguard sweats. You’d both make a clean break like this, getting rid of all remnants of the other in your lives.

You returned with the sweats to find Ignis holding the pen box, mouth parted in a small gape. Stopping in front of him, you were met with a surprised stare.

“Is this—”

Realizing what he was holding, you tossed the sweats past him into the box of random things and hastily took the pen away from him. His eyes didn’t leave the token until you closed the lid over it, bringing the small box close to your chest as if that would hide it further.

“I don’t recall giving that to you,” he said, his hollow eyes brighter than you’d seen in months. “Where did that come from?”

You frowned at him, annoyed that he’d touched something he shouldn’t have. Embarrassment began to settle over you. Ignis had moved on, something that you were trying to do now. You were finally in a place where it felt possible. Admitting what your intentions had been right before he’d begun his courtship with someone else wasn’t appealing in the least, but if you were letting go of him, the truth would only be your ally in grounding yourself.

“I had it made for you,” you said. “I was gonna…” Looking down at the box in your hands, you felt your throat tighten. “I was gonna propose on New Year’s Eve. Seems pretty silly now.”

“Not at all.” 

You looked up to see him shake his head. Of course he wouldn’t think it was silly; he took this kind of thing seriously. The humiliation of your admission sank a little deeper. Now he knew you had been so close to committing to him. He must’ve felt like he’d dodged a bullet by proposing to someone else before you got the chance.

Stepping around him, you put the box back on the table. “I’m shipping it out tomorrow to some collector. Apparently, it’s exactly what they were looking for. They’re getting the crest removed, though.”

Ignis cleared his throat. “I should hope they would.”

You forced a small huff of laughter, looking up at him. “Yeah, can’t have random tokens out in the wild.”

He didn’t say anything to that, not helping the burning discomfort you felt. His eyes scanned your face in a markedly curious frenzy. You didn’t like the intensity of it, averting your gaze and bending down to grab the box of random junk. 

“Here,” you said. “These are yours. Sorry it’s taken me so long to give it back.”

Taking it from you, he suddenly asked, “Are you still moving to Altissia? Is that what you’re preparing for?”

You stilled, thoughts springing forth at the way he stepped closer. His sudden arrival, the curious looks, the warm gaze he held you with. You couldn’t believe that, even now, you were feeling hope at reconciling with him. To have him in your life even in just a friendly way would’ve sufficed.

“No. I’m joining Prompto outside the wall.” 

Ignis nodded, and was his expression growing warmer still? Happiness toward you looked terribly foreign on his tired face. Foreign, yet he looked so much less like a stranger now than he had all year.

“Would it be alright if I contacted you?” he asked. “I must admit that bringing the dress had merely been a pretense to ask your forgiveness. I would… I’d very much like to be friends again, if you’ve a mind.”

Taken by surprise at this, you found yourself nodding quickly. “Y-yeah, me, too.”

The familiarity of this situation wasn’t lost on you, the sudden shift in your relationship from strangers to friends one that you’d experienced before. Last time, it had been short lived, a day of sleeping with each other ruining the chance to rebuild your friendship almost immediately. Ignis smiled, and you returned the gesture, a loose thought eating at you that you couldn’t let that happen. Not again. 

You weren’t going to let him go just to pursue your potential with Ravus— or anyone else, for that matter. You weren’t going to hold onto your love for him just to make it easier for your shared friends. You were going to move on for yourself, just like he’d seemed to do.

You both deserved happiness. It was the kind of _live and let live_ bullshit you’d learned in therapy. Not that you thought it was wrong. As you watched him leave, you wished, more than anything, that you could have found that happiness with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Check out this wonderful [birthday fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577032) written by the lovely Elathepenn. It's about Reader's birthday, something that could've taken place after this chapter. I absolutely don't deserve it, and she deserves all of the love for writing it and keeping me motivated!


	4. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is by far the most self indulgent piece of writing I’ve ever done. There’s some _extremely brief smut_ and childish humor. I’m really feeling the pains of the chapter limit I placed on myself so I added one out of necessity. The **smut** is nothing crazy, but it’s a little more **descriptive** than I'm used to, fair warning.

Prompto frowned at the display on his camera, his leg shaking as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “The composition is all off.”

You frowned across the camp, picking through your breakfast of half a granola bar left over from the day before. A visit to the nearest rest stop was a week overdue. Between tossing a toilet paper roll over some bushes to each other and huddling together pitifully in the same sleeping bag on the rainy nights, you were getting way too close to Prompto and losing sight of what it felt like to be around civilization.

“Should we do the shoot again?” you asked, hoping to the gods you didn’t need to go back to that location. It had been the most nerve-wracking situation watching him climb nearly fifty feet up one of the natural stone arches that helped make up the landscape of Duscae. All for a wide shot of a catoblepas. You’d felt sick with worry the entire time, almost angry that Prompto had agreed to get such a picture.

You were doing random work for little pay, but you weren’t trying to be _that_ wreckless.

“No way, dude.” He stopped shifting on his feet and looked over at you. His hair was messed up from sleep, shaped into angles that were even odder than his usual look. “For just fifty gil, it’s good enough.”

You sucked in a deep, sharp breath at that reminder. That amount wasn’t going to get you very far. Maybe a refill of fuel for Prompto’s bike and a week of cup noodles at best. You had a fair amount of savings thanks to selling nearly everything you owned before coming out here, but Prompto wasn’t into using it unless it was your last resort.

Letting out that breath, you turned your attention to the early morning sunlight that peeked through the trees surrounding the camp. “I need a shower. Like a _real_ shower.”

You didn’t have to look to know that Prompto was nodding in agreement. “Gods, same. If I have to share a tent with you for one more night, I’m gonna lose it.”

With a laugh, you swallowed the last of the granola and stood up to knock dirt onto the last dying embers of the fire. “I don’t kick that hard in my sleep.”

He crossed the camp to put his camera away. “The kicking I can live with. It’s the… the other stuff.”

You both began the routine of taking apart the tent. A bright red began to creep along his face, and you laughed again at the sight of it.

“Prom, it was one time!”

Ever since leaving Insomnia, you’d felt the immense weight of your loneliness disappear. The new setting and lifestyle, being near Prompto again, finally letting go of Ignis, and Ravus’ constant support. All of them were contributing factors to overcoming your summer depression. Along with a brighter outlook came a return of your sex drive, and it was stronger than ever. Because you were choosing to not sleep with any random that you encountered, this part of you expressed itself in steamy dreams.

Apparently your panting and moaning had woken him up once, leaving him scarred for life.

He shook his head at your laughter, face burning brighter than ever. Deciding on a hard topic shift to get those apparently horrifying thoughts out of his head, you asked, “How’s your brother?”

Folding the tarp of the tent while you disassembled the rest of it, he shrugged. “Good. He still won’t tell me about our parents.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, shoving the tent into the tiny bag it was held in. “But he knows something. He gets real annoyed every time I ask, and he’s never asked me if _I_ know anything.”

You forced the rest of the tent pieces into the bag as he held it out for you. “So you’re just gonna keep asking until he gives in?”

He nodded, tossing the bag over his shoulder as you cleaned up the last of the camp. “Gotta make up for years of missing out on being a pain in the ass, right?”

Another laugh tumbled out of you. “I’m kinda wishing I had a sibling now, too. Maybe Noct and I can adopt each other since we don’t have any.”

Prompto’s eyes widened comically. You both made your way through the trees, your arms full of the few things you owned, ascending a steady incline covered in moss and leaves toward a road.

“That would be a nightmare, dude. Both of you fishing all the time and tag teaming me on video games.” He almost slipped on a mossy piece of ground, but you caught him with a hand pressed against a shoulder blade, all of your weight used to keep him steady. He looked over his shoulder at you with a smile. “Don’t you have your own _prince and his commoner_ thing going on? Don’t have to encroach on mine.”

You snorted, letting go to walk around him. Without your support, he stumbled back a little but caught himself before falling. You grinned at his unsteady footing on the wet forest ground. “You mean Ravus?”

“Yeah, I mean the guy who moved to Altissia just to be with you.” 

Reaching the top of the hill, you turned around to give him a roll of your eyes. This was a common topic he liked to pick at every other day. “He didn’t move there for me. They needed an Oracle. There are a lot of sick people in Accordo.”

“Yeah well, both can be true,” he said, stopping next to you. He looked down at his boots and, to get rid of the mud, knocked them against the metal safety bar that lined the edge of the road. “He moved there because he thought you were gonna be there. Helping people was probably just a plus.”

“Helping people is his first priority.”

“Nah, dude. Being a dick is his first priority. He doesn’t like anybody except for his family and you.” After kicking most of the mud from his boots, he set you off toward his bike parked not far down the road. 

You followed him with another roll of your eyes. “You don’t really know him, Prom. He’s not that bad.”

“He told me my continued existence was tenuous at best, like, two days ago.”

You snickered, remembering the phone call Prompto had interrupted. He kept going before you could bring up how it was only natural for Ravus to be angry when Prompto had been venting in the middle of your conversation about something unfair that had happened to him in King's Knight.

“He’s like that protective spiracorn we saw last week. I don’t know if he wants to kick me or stab me. Or both.” Prompto dropped the tent bag heavily on the seat of the bike and looked at you. “I’m just glad he’s so far away that he can only do it with his words.”

“He doesn’t actually mean it,” you said, unsure if that was true but wanting Prompto to believe it anyway.

“Just admit it, dude,” he said, preparing to put the tent away properly. Traveling on a motorcycle with no home to speak or meant space was limited. “He’s got it bad for you. I dunno why, but he does.”

You blinked, looking away. Birds flitted between trees, singing a song that you’d grown deaf to in your month on the road. A shrug rolled over your shoulders, and you relented something that you’d thought of often but never deeply about.

“I mean, maybe? He’s mentioned this message or something that I guess I missed.” Your eyes followed one of the birds, and when it disappeared into the branches of an evergreen, you looked at Prompto again. “Or maybe I deleted it. I’ve checked everything, but I can’t find any kind of love confession in my emails or messages.”

Prompto arched blond brows. “Deleted or archived?”

Again, you blinked. “What? What’s the difference?”

He huffed a small laugh, leaning on the bike. The camera strapped around his neck dangled a little at the angle. “It’s a pretty common mistake. Noct archives all his stuff because all it takes is a swipe of his finger, and he doesn’t have to see it anymore. But it stays around. Deleted stuff is gone forever.”

“Well, can I—” You pulled out your phone, suddenly hopeful that you’d find this elusive message that Ravus seemed to think was imperative for you to understand where he was coming from. “Can I get it back?”

Prompto nodded but waved away your phone. “It has to be on a computer. Let’s get to a rest stop first, and I’ll show you.”

You waited for him to put the tent away before you offered to help him with his own bag of stuff. He shook his head, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s just go to the Chocobo Post. It’s the closest.”

“That’s where we spend most of our time.” It wasn’t a complaint, just a statement of fact. “Shouldn’t we get the photo to what’s-his-name in Lestallum?”

Prompto grinned, already setting off on a walk toward the place you could just make out through the trees. It was down a slope and a winding dirt road. You could smell the chocobos from where you stood already. “Just c’mon.”

Never one to complain about being around your favorite birds, you followed after him with a bit of excitement.

—

After a shower and some guidance from Prompto, you found it. You actually found the email Ravus had been talking about. Or, at least, you were pretty sure this was it. Dated in January, the email was the first he ever sent, and it seemed like you had meant to delete it, though you could barely remember past your pain of that time.

You opened it without ceremony, impatient to see what Ravus had deemed unrepeatable.

_I hope you’re aware this doesn’t come easy for me. There are countless reasons why I shouldn’t feel compelled to write this to you. With want to retain my dignity, I will not beleaguer the points I wish to make. You’re due an explanation for context and nothing more._

_I’d arrived to Insomnia for the New Year’s festivities fully expecting to be disgusted by the love between you and Scientia. I’d prepared myself to be happy for you. After everything I witnessed you go though, I had no doubt in my mind that you deserved whatever happiness he could give you. Instead I found you hurting and confused, as you always were when it dealt in matters involving him. You’d called me before my arrival to tell me you needed me. Although my actions were short sighted, there are only so many signs and opportunities that a man will ignore before giving in to his less honorable thoughts._

_To think I would act on one so easily is abhorrent. My behavior, not the act itself. I had never known the touch of another’s mouth to my own nor that it would be so intoxicating. Even so, I’ve no regret. I would do it again so long as you would have me._

_I had not realized many things until you left, the greatest of which being how empty the manor would feel without you. I found myself feeling equally as empty after mere days of you being gone. Seeing you again had set me to rights, even as you longed for another man. I assume that longing continues. I fail to understand but must acknowledge your wants. Like your thoughts, what you feel carries weight I could never ignore._

_Much the same goes for my own, and I confess they drove my every action while in Insomnia. I antagonized Scientia purposely on more than one occasion. After our performance, I met him outside the ballroom. He tried to shake my hand with the notion that he was conceding as if I had won your heart. It sickened me that he would give up so easily. Whatever happened to people in love going after that which they desire most?_

_I knew then that you were only ever going to find yourself troubled if you chose to spend your days with him. He doesn’t deserve you. I admit I don’t think anyone does, but should you choose to be with anyone else, you would have my full support._

_I refused to let him stand down, if only to have reason to anger him. I apologize for the response it incited. If I had anticipated him turning to that other woman, I would have shaken his hand, let him assume you were my lover, and been done with it. The reason for that should be apparent, but I wish to dispel any doubt or misunderstanding._

_I will not repeat myself so remember this: I cannot always understand you, but I appreciate what wonder and joy your presence brings to the world and to me. It’s unfathomable that so much can be contained in so few words, but here lies the truth._

_I adore you completely._

_No response is best if this is not felt in return. I would rather not listen to you lament that you don’t feel the same about me. I have no use for feeble platitudes nor insincerity. What matters is I no longer bear this secret upon myself alone. It is, as am I, yours to keep._

_Ravus Nox Fleuret_

Following his signature were lines —fourteen in total— comprised of Tenebraen. You had no idea what it said, and neither did your automatic translator, apparently. You looked at the jumbled up mess of translated words with fascination. Most of it didn’t make any sense.

“Sensual pleasure?” Prompto leaned over you, his chin hitting your shoulder. “Wait— he snorted, pressing a finger to your computer screen. “ _Fertile loins_? What—”

“Hey!” You smacked his hand and shrugged him off, slamming your laptop shut.

He backed away, a laugh falling out of him. “What _was_ that?”

You sent him a glare, but it faded quickly in the face of Prompto’s continued laughter. You couldn’t blame him; it was definitely… interesting. You were assuming it was a poem, which would explain why it didn’t translate into anything even remotely comprehensible.

“It’s some Tenebraen thing Ravus sent me,” you said, choosing to omit the rest of the message. You were still processing that. “The email I missed.”

“That’s weird.” Prompto shook his head, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he backed toward the bathroom of the caravan. “That’s super weird, and I was right.”

You waited for him to lock himself in the bathroom before opening your laptop again. The email was thoroughly analyzed, a bit of adrenaline burning in your stomach, propelling your fingers into restless motion as they tapped against the tabletop. You copied all of the poem, hoping an online translator would have a better time converting it into something you could understand. Somehow, that only made it more incomprehensible.

Leaving the poem alone, you read the email another time and laughed to yourself. He adored you, huh? That was… You covered your face with your hands, feeling a deep flush burn at your skin even though you were entirely alone with no real reason to feel this embarrassed.

You reached for your phone, suddenly impatient to send Ravus a message about finding the email. You were stalled when you saw a weird message from Ignis.

 ** _Ignis:_ ** _Come to the racetrack when you’re ready._

 **_You:_ ** _Did you mean to send that to someone else?_

 **_Ignis:_ ** _Are you and Prompto not at the Chocobo Post?_

You closed your computer again, standing up quickly to cross the caravan and knock on the bathroom door. “Prompto!”

A muffled, “What?!”

“Are the others here?”

He repeated the yell, not understanding you through the sound of his shower and the barrier of the door. A sigh heaved its way out of you at this useless exchange. You crossed the caravan again, pulling on your shoes before leaving.

 **_You:_ ** _Better not be joking! I don’t want to walk all that way for nothing_

 **_Ignis:_ ** _It’s only across the road._

 **_You:_ ** _But that’s so far~_

 ** _Ignis:_ ** _I’m sure you’ll manage._

—

The racetrack was packed, more crowded than you’d ever seen it. You had to knit yourself through bodies in search of any familiar faces. People crowded the ticket booth and lined the fence of the track in droves. You looked for Ignis but found Gladio instead, a head above most people that stood near the fence.

You felt a grin pull at your face without volition, calling over the crowds, “Juicy!”

He didn’t seem to notice until you met him, his expression taking on a grin of its own. With no subtly, he looked past you.

“He’s showering,” you said, still forced to raise your voice over the cheering crowds.

Racers on chocobos rushed past in blurs on the racetrack, leaving a wake of dust and slight waves of air blowing through your damp hair. You tucked it behind an ear, grin growing wider as your attention shifted to the race in progress. You could barely make out what was happening, getting caught up in the cheers around you more so than actually understanding who had won and why you were meant to be so excited about it.

Gladio motioned for you to follow him once the race ended. Making a break from the line of spectators, you felt excitement build in you as more recognizable faces came into view. Noctis sat atop a chocobo that Luna fawned over, and Ignis stood near them, an easy smile on his face.

You felt a pinch of awkwardness. Although you’d spoken to him through messages and phone calls with Prompto, you hadn’t had an actual conversation with Ignis since he’d left your apartment with all of his stuff. With _most_ of his stuff.

He looked better than he had the last few times he’d crossed your path. His suit seemed to fit him again, and his expression held none of the tense worry it had before. When his eyes met yours, you realized the dark circles around them had remained unchanged, mostly obscured by his spectacles. The awkwardness became worry, and you walked to him with a slowly fading smile.

“How are you?” This was one of the few times you used a pleasantry and actually meant it.

His smile grew slightly. “Well as ever.”

You appreciated that he didn’t return the question, but felt hard pressed to believe his answer.

“You’re here!” Luna left the chocobo to pull you into a hug.

“Yeah. I’m here,” you laughed, returning the gesture before she pulled away. 

“Did you see?” She looked at Noctis with a smile. “He was terrible. Last place. It was incredibly cute the way he yelled for most of the race.”

Noct’s brows arched as he dismounted the chocobo, his eyes moving between you and his wife. Then he scoffed quietly, looking away as his face grew red.

“Should have attended your riding lessons, highness,” Ignis said, crossing his arms.

A joke wanted to make its way out of you, something about Noct being too busy giving Luna riding lessons. But you held it in, the awkwardness and unfamiliarity with everyone just enough to make you question if you’d come out of it offending someone.

So you turned to Ignis, ready to have a go at your first real conversation. You’d actually missed him since leaving Insomnia, and you’d enjoyed the few things you’d shared with each other in the meantime.

A chocobo with several medals on its collar stopped near you, and your eyes trailed upward to find his girlfriend in the saddle. Right. Of course she’d be there. She whistled with a look toward Noctis as she dismounted, holding the reins out for Ignis to take without prompting.

“It doesn’t matter if you can get into any championship-level race you want, your highness,” she said, a hand coming to her hip. “If you can’t even ride your chocobo properly.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Noct sighed, waving her off. “Specs already pointed that out.”

She looked to Ignis, a wide smile crossing her face. Closing the distance between them, she touched his nose with the tip of her finger. “That’s my Iggy. Good job.”

You stood idly by, looking off to not have to witness the rest of the exchange. The sound of the kiss was more than enough. Gladio threw a heavy arm over your shoulders, but you still felt no need to look up. You were mostly over Ignis; that didn’t mean you wanted to see him fawning over someone else. You didn’t like watching PDA no matter who it involved.

“We’ve come for my birthday,” Luna spoke up. When you shifted your gaze her way, you felt lighter somehow just by the sight of her smile. “You didn’t ask, but I can tell you were wondering.”

She pulled you from Gladio’s hold, her arm hooking around yours at the elbow. A smile eased onto your face at her friendliness. “Happy birthday. You wanted to see chocobos for your big day?”

“It isn’t quite that day yet. I wanted to see my new kingdom. We’ve just arrived here from a short stay in Galdin Quay.”

That made sense. Leave it to the wealthy to take extensive vacations just to sightsee. Your home country had a lot to offer so you could hardly blame her for wanting to explore what Noctis would someday rule.

You looked between everyone, at Prompto’s sudden appearance next to Gladio, at Noct’s finally fading blush as Ignis spoke to him about something that you couldn’t make out because your focus was drawn to the way Ignis’ girlfriend pressed a hand gently to her chocobo’s nose.

“That’s my bird,” she cooed. “Good job.”

—

The heat of Lestallum clung to you heavily, a stark change from the cooler air of Duscae. It rose in wafts that oppressed, prompting you to wear one of Prompto’s sleeveless shirts just to find some semblance of comfort in motion. You left what’s-his-name— Vyv’s with Prompto one step ahead. He had Gladio Time planned, and you weren’t invited. Which was fine because you had a lot of nothing to do. Doing nothing sounded amazing after weeks of avoiding aggressive wildlife, taking practice shots with the pistol you’d bought from the back of a guy’s truck — _that_ had been an exciting but alarming development— and helping Prompto get money-worthy shots while you wrote accompanying articles. It was busy work, this freelance nonsense.

You were looking forward to a moment of rest.

As soon as you crossed the main entrance into the Leville, a slender arm encircled your waist, Luna drawing to your side with her usual kind smile. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate her apparent and outspoken desire to befriend you. Something on your mind just kept you a few seconds off on all of the friendly overtures she’d been sending you since you’d been traveling together for the past day.

You looked around the lobby for any sign of Ignis and his girlfriend but found nothing. Your body relaxed considerably, and you looked at the princess speaking next to you.

“What do you think?”

With a blink, you blurted, “Huh?”

She looked at you patiently, as if holding back a laugh. “Inappropriate dresses and dancing. Does that sound fun?”

As if she held a key to your heart, the words elicited a genuine smile from you. “Hell yeah. That’s— yes.”

She laughed softly at your sudden interest, letting go of your waist to pull you by the hand right out of the lobby and back into the musty, wet heat of the city.

Your excitement was nearly dampened by the sight of Ignis standing in wait next to Noctis outside. They were speaking next to a large fountain, a man strumming a guitar too loudly in the little plaza for you to hear what they were saying. You were drawn down the steps toward them by Luna. You bit your lip when Ignis met your eyes, offering him a small wave with your free hand.

“Did you ask her if she’d like to come with us?” Luna looked to Ignis in question, letting go of your hand.

He took in a breath, his chest expanding before his gaze left you to focus on Luna. “She wasn’t interested, I’m afraid.”

Guiltily, you let your eyes follow the strong line of his jaw, down the curve of his neck to his exposed collar bones. He’d rolled up his sleeves, his toned forearms on display. Shameless. You made yourself look away, the flush coming to your face a product of much more than the heat of the city.

You couldn’t deny that you found him as attractive as ever. But he was bad for you. He’d moved on with someone else. He was your friend, and you didn’t sleep with just anyone anymore. There had to be feelings attached, ones that you weren’t sure you felt for Ignis any longer.

It was a difficult thing to determine, given the short amount of time you’d spent with him in the past day. Your heart had yet to race. There was no overwhelming thrill at his touch. It would’ve been a stretch to say you were happy for him, but it was almost nice to see him smiling rather than angry. Even if the smile was aimed at his girlfriend instead of you. The friendship thing was working, you thought. All you’d needed was time and distance to separate you from the bad blood.

When he flexed an arm in an idle stretch while Luna spoke, you allowed one last subtle glance.

Ignis was still pretty hot, though. You had to give him that.

—

When Luna had said _inappropriate_ what she’d clearly meant was _slutty._ Every dress she threw your way had a neckline that fell further and further toward your navel. Most were reminiscent of your days before knowing Ignis.

You checked yourself out in one particular dress that was so short, your ass had a nice breeze against it from the store’s air conditioner. The thinnest straps held it up at your shoulders, and the plunging neckline ended just below your breasts. There was side boob on both ends, and if you leaned forward just the slightest, you had underboob for days. It was, without a doubt, the definition of trashy.

“I love it,” you said in a rush, stepping out of the dressing room to find Luna in something almost but not quite as indecent.

Noctis, who’d come with you but made Ignis pull all the weight in regards to helping Luna, looked up from his phone. It clattered against the carpeted floor when he dropped it a moment later. Next to him, Ignis looked between you and the other woman before clearing his throat.

“I’m not certain this is becoming of a princess, Lady Lunafreya.”

She ignored him, dipping a hand into her bag to get her phone. “You look wonderful. Don’t you think so, Ignis?”

You paused in your second self assessment in front of the larger set of mirrors outside the dressing room to look at her, then at Ignis. His face dusting a slight pink, he cleared his throat again as Noctis bent to pick up his phone. Rather than wait for an answer, Luna held her phone out toward Ignis, waving it a little in her hand.

“Would you take a photo of us, please?”

Ignis took the phone, opening his mouth as if to say something, but he only looked between you and Luna again, closing it to take in a breath through his nose. “Alright.”

You felt immensely uncomfortable under Ignis’ gaze, even if there was the filter of a phone screen between you. He snapped the picture quickly, giving the phone back to Luna before turning directly around. He faced a mannequin wearing an elegant gown, a hand coming to his chin as if contemplating a piece of art.

Noctis kept his gaze downward, a hand rubbing at his neck in discomfort. You thought to say something but became distracted when Luna showed you the picture. It was out of focus and cut off the bottom portion of the dresses. Which was pretty hard to do since there was barely anything there to begin with.

“I’ll take one of us,” you offered. “I’ve done this a lot.”

Several snapshots, guiding Luna through the obligatory sexy poses, and one embarrassed Noctis later, you spared a glance at Ignis while Luna went through the pictures you’d taken. He had moved, choosing to sit on a flowery settee in a corner of the open area just outside the dressing rooms. By all appearances, he was bored, his focus split between his phone and staring thoughtfully into space. Noctis sat next to him, nose in his phone— but that wasn’t unusual.

“This one is lovely,” Luna said, catching your attention. She showed you a picture of yourself, maximized to crop herself out. It was probably the least scandalous pose you’d done, but you could still see more skin than was necessary for common decency.

“If by _lovely_ you mean slutty, then yes,” you laughed.

She smiled at your response, showing you another. “I’m sending this one to Ravus. He said traveling would be a poor choice of my celebration, but I’m having a wonderful time.”

You stilled, thoughts slowing to a halt as she sent the picture off. Even Ravus had known the others were leaving the Wall for Luna’s birthday? You always seemed to be the last one to be told anything. The little noise her phone made when it sent snapped you out of the brief stall in your train of thought. A deviant thought came to mind when you realized just what she’d done.

“Send me those,” you said as you dug for your phone from your own bag. Ravus was going to have a fit the moment he saw what a bad influence you were to Luna. Trying on the dresses hadn’t even been your idea, but he’d never believe that. So the least you could do was stock up on sexy pictures to bombard him with when he sent you annoyed messages like _Why have you convinced Luna to join in your distasteful nonsense?_

It felt easier now than ever before —not that it had ever been difficult in the first place— to accept his irritation because of what you knew. The concrete weight of how he felt toward you only broadened your confidence. It made you nervous, and you weren’t sure what you would do the next time you saw him. But it boosted your sense of self to know that your inability to hold back when around him hadn’t ever been an issue.

—

In the end, you chose something that covered more. Such a short, tight dress in the climate of Lestallum would’ve only invited severely chafed thighs and dehydration from sweating so much under all that polyester and silk. You walked with Luna through the trash littered streets, Ignis and Noctis following behind like shadows as the sun set beyond the buildings.

The prince let out the occasional complaint, but every time you looked his way, he held a smile aimed toward his wife. You weren’t exactly sure what game they were playing at. Surely, she wasn’t as oblivious and playful as she was making herself out to be on this particular day spent together.

Ignis didn’t say anything at all.

It wasn’t lost on you that the four of you appeared as two couples enjoying a night on the town to any onlookers. It didn’t overtly bother you, but when a few people passed, you took Luna’s hand in hopes that they would assume you were with her. To you, that seemed a better alternative than being the girlfriend who drug her reluctant boyfriend on outings that he hated. Which was the entire vibe Ignis was giving off, whether it was intentional or not.

The club scene in Lestallum was nonexistent. You followed Luna down a dimly lit, narrow strip of a road in a district of the city you’d never been. She slowed when you passed under a flickering streetlight, her hand tightening in yours. You felt a greater presence behind you as Noctis and Ignis moved closer at the hard turn you’d taken into unfamiliar territory.

A large bar sign greeted you at the end of the road, just on the corner. Luna let go of your hand to rush inside, unheeding the sudden remarks from Ignis that it was a bad idea, that she should let him get the door, that he didn’t like this one bit. You laughed a little at his blustering and followed her inside.

The place was small, a twangy tune filtering through the yellowed light and smoky air. It was similar enough to previous haunts that you were fairly comfortable making your way past the clientele that filled the place, crustier folks than what you’d find in Insomnia. The thought that you were in what was probably a local spot for hunters was kind of exciting.

Luna had already secured a place at a table, and by the time the other two had caught up, she was ordering drinks from the single, unenthusiastic server. Before you could get even a sip from your water once it was placed in front of you, she pulled you up and toward an old fashioned jukebox.

Flipping through the song list, she kept asking you what was good until she ultimately chose something objectively awful. Everything seemed to just happen to you in that way for much of the night. For reasons you weren’t entirely sure, Luna wanted to dance until she fell apart and you followed suit, happy to relax in an old, familiar way while Ignis and Noctis sat in audience.

When you returned to the table for a break, a colorful drink had been placed next to your glass of water. You looked from Ignis to Noctis, shaking your head.

“You know I can’t have this,” you said, pushing it toward the middle of the table.

“That guy ordered it for you,” Noct said, tilting his head in reference to a man in a large, dirty coat two tables away.

When your eyes fell on him, he lifted a hand in a casual wave. His open interest made you shrink back. He was easily twice your age or older. Who in the hell? Picking up the multi-colored drink, you went to the bar. In all of your years of having drinks bought for you, this was the first time it left you feeling gross.

“Uh, can I have a virgin?” you asked, pushing the drink toward the bartender.

They looked at the glass. “A virgin of that?” 

“Sure.” You shrugged, turning around as they went to work on it. The song playing came to a soft end, another picking up instantly. Across the bar, Luna had dragged Noct out of his seat to dance with her. A natural flush had overtaken her soft features, her hair slightly wild from the unending motion. Strangely, she reminded you of your livelier days. It made you feel old despite being younger than everyone there.

“Here we are,” the bartender spoke up, catching your attention.

You turned around, paying them before taking a generous drink of what you immediately realized was just a stemless cherry floating in some fruit juice and flavored syrup.

“Didn’t like my drink?”

You sent a glance to the man who’d sidled onto the barstool next to you. No answer you could’ve had to his obvious come-ons felt right. He wasn’t even remotely your type, and nothing about him compelled you to speak. The straw in your glass made an awful, scratchy sound as you drank the last of it.

The man smiled. “Hard to get, huh?”

You let go of the straw, and it dropped into the empty glass with a soft _clink._ Opening your mouth to ready an irritated response, you were cut off by Ignis’ sudden voice.

“It’s time we left, dear.”

Your head snapped toward him, your indignation growing heavier in your expression. “Don’t play the fucking boyfriend role,” you said, coming off more acidic than you intended. “I can save myself from this honkey.”

The man made a disgruntled sound, but you were more focused on the surprise that overtook Ignis’ face.

“Ah, of course,” he said, using a gloved finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Behind him, you noticed that Luna and Noctis had cleared from the small open space that Luna had claimed as her personal dancefloor for most of the night. You realized, then, that Ignis hadn’t been joking about leaving just to help you avoid unwanted advances from a crusty but lusty stranger. You hopped down from your barstool, offering the man a shrug before going to the exit. Ignis was a presence at your back, and you slowed once outside the bar to have him at your side instead.

“Sorry.” You glanced up at him as you both made your way toward Noct and Luna. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“Think nothing of it. I shouldn’t have pretended to be your lover. Even when I had been, you’d never needed saving.”

“Well _that’s_ not exactly true.” You let out a soft laugh.

Ignis’ eyes met yours for only a moment, then strayed along the alley you walked. He seemed unfocused. “I suppose it was more my failure to save you that stands out in my mind. I spend every day in regret over that.”

You arched a brow at him. “How much have you been drinking, Iggy?”

He turned his gaze toward you again. “Perhaps more than I should.” His face held a twinge of pink, the dark circles around his eyes made darker by the shadows cast by the dim street lights overhead.

Astrals, this close he looked pretty terrible.

Before you could think to ask about it, you caught up to the other two, meeting them where the narrow street intersected with a larger thoroughfare. Luna leaned into Noct, her arm locked around his. It seemed like the night had finally caught up to her.

Noct looked between you and Ignis, nodding in the general direction of the hotel. “Let’s head back.”

You spent the entire walk sending glances to Ignis, questions and worries festering in your mind.

—

Strong arms hooked at the elbow under your knees. You felt weightless, bouncing against a hard form, your connection to the man a burning, rigid cock that invaded your aching body with unparalleled pleasure. Your toes curled, your arms holding tight for purchase at broad shoulders. He was standing, taking you as if it were nothing, and you were at his mercy, dropping against him over and over at his direction and control.

You panted into the hard chest, his skin slick with sweat against your cheek. He slowed, eased you off of himself. His arms shook slightly, and you kissed his chest lovingly, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He brought you back, filled you again, and held you close. You moaned at the feeling of him that spread everywhere, the raw bliss curling all the way to your toes. Your legs attempted to tighten around him, but it was impossible in this position.

His movements were jerkier, harder as he met your body with his own in a quick rhythm that you couldn’t control. You gripped his broad shoulders tightly, riding out the pleasure he gave with each thrust. He arched down slightly, long hair grazing your neck, a growl falling against your ear.

“You take my cock so well, ma crevette.”

Eyes cracking open almost painfully, you stared blankly at the cream colored ceiling of your hotel room. One of the pillows had gotten into your hold, your legs wrapped around it, hands digging into the feather-filled cotton. You swallowed, closing your eyes with a groan. Your throat was scratchy from sleep, and you moved your tongue around your mouth for moisture. Morning breath. Heavy eyes. You groaned again and pushed the pillow away.

Always. You were always waking up at the worst time in your sex dreams. Always before you came. Always after your mysterious lover revealed himself. It wasn’t always Ravus, but he seemed to be your subconscious’ new favorite plaything. Your legs curled upward, and you turned onto your side, a hand snaking under the waistband of your pants.

The alarm clock on the nightstand told you it was one fifteen in the morning. Plenty of time to just… rub one out and go back to sleep. Easy. You were in a single room so it wasn’t like you had to be quiet for Prompto for once. You closed your eyes and eased your fingers in, unsurprised at how wet you were already.

_I adore you completely._

Your eyes snapped open again, the thought halting the movement of your fingers. You let it sit there for a moment before sighing into your pillow. Pulling your hand out of your pants, you shoved the blankets off and rolled onto your back again. It wasn’t happening. It felt impossible with that email and the absurd, confusing abundance of unknown Tenebraen poetry lingering in the back of your mind.

It was bad enough you were having sex dreams about the man. The only thing you had to justify it was the fact that Ravus adored you. Or so he claimed. You grinned at the ceiling, hand coming to press against your chest before you remembered it was still wet. Rolling out of bed entirely, you stumbled to the bathroom, snatching your phone on the way.

Nothing from Ravus yet.

He hadn’t said anything about the picture Luna had sent him. You’d anticipated a huge slew of messages berating you on the indecency of your dress or a ban on you spending any more time with his sister lest your horrible influences rub off on her any further. You hadn’t even gotten the usual email. It had been total radio silence since you’d found his confession the day before. It was like he knew you’d read it and was waiting for you to say something first. Which was a silly thought.

 _No response is best if this is not felt in return._  

Washing your hands, you let thoughts pour in of how ridiculous it was for him to think you wouldn’t respond. Of fucking course you were going to say something in return. It was a matter of how you did it, which meant you had to actually consider how you felt. This was the first time you didn’t feel like running away from someone or rushing headlong into it.

You hated the silence from his end, and wished you knew what it was about. At the same time, you were kind of grateful for it. You needed time to think about him, about yourself, about everything. It was too important to rush.

—

You wrote down the poem, penning all of the mystery words in your messy lettering in hopes it would somehow transfer the knowledge to your brain. When it didn’t, you were left sitting on your bed, staring at the words pointlessly. You folded and then unfolded the paper, annoyed because it felt like it should’ve been readable after all of your time studying the language. Most words were _just_ off the mark of understanding.

It felt like a missing piece. Sure, he said he adored you, but did he— Was it more than that? You couldn’t form a response if you didn’t know the entirety of his feelings. What if the poem was about growing old and dying together or something equally as dramatic? You weren’t going promise him _that._ Conversely, it could’ve just been an invitation for casual sex between friends who liked each other _just enough._ Which you also wouldn’t do.

Slipping on shoes, you left the room for fresh air with the poem in hand. The hotel was quiet at this early morning hour, the hallways empty and the lobby serene. Once outside, you let the heat and humidity of Lestallum hug you. 

You stopped in the plaza just outside the hotel. The splash of the water in the large fountain gained your attention quickly, and you took a seat on the edge to watch it, wishing it would ease your irritated mind. Lowering a hand to dip fingers into the fountain, you took a deep breath to steady yourself for another round of deciphering the apparently unbreakable code Ravus had left for you so many months ago.

“What brings you out here so late?” 

Startled, you jerked your hand out of the water and dried it on your pants as you looked up at Ignis. He approached from around the fountain, as if he’d been out and caught you on his way back. He looked around the empty plaza before stepping closer to sit at the fountain, leaving a short distance between you.

“Or early, rather,” he amended. “Restless night?”

You gripped the folded paper in your hand, shrugging. “You could say that.”

The dim lighting wasn’t doing him any favors. His hair was brushed back in a way you only rarely saw, his glasses off and his brow pinched. Worry welled in you, and it had built up so drastically in the last day that you could almost taste it like bile in your throat.

Holding it back wasn’t fun, but there was a line you were afraid to cross. If you showed him you were worried for him, he might push you away. He might misunderstand and want you out of his life again because he’d moved on.

“Looks like you sobered up,” you said, deciding to skirt the line. Not a worry. Just an observation. He couldn’t misunderstand that.

He chuckled, the low streetlight playing along his features. Although light and friendly, it did nothing to quell your worry. “I wasn’t that inebriated.”

You chewed on your lip, watching the way he shifted on the uncomfortable concrete. He’d been drunk enough to say things you weren’t sure he would’ve said otherwise. But maybe he was embarrassed about it now. You decided not to press the issue, moving on to a different question you’d held back all night.

“Why didn’t your partner come with us?” This might’ve been _too_ close to the line, but Ignis didn’t seem bothered or even surprised by the question.

“She’s early to bed, early to rise,” he said offhandedly. “Leaving her chocobo at the Post has left her in a foul mood. So I find myself out here pecking with you.”

You stared at him for a moment, then a small snort escaped before you could help it. Was he really making puns at two in the morning? You brought a hand to your face, the paper covering you smile. 

His own smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you were suddenly reminded of the way she’d treated him at the Chocobo Post. As if he were just another of her prized chocobos. The irony of it would’ve been funny if he didn’t appear so unconcerned with his own deterioration. You had no reason to think the two things were connected, but it didn’t stop your mind from wandering to that conclusion all the same.

His eyes followed the paper when you dropped your hand back to your lap. Smile waning, you realized Ignis might actually be helpful here. Other than Luna, he was the only one here who knew Tenebraen. You didn’t think you could ask her to read it just in case the poem _was_ something salacious. 

You stood and closed the distance, walking over to sit next to him. Unfolding the paper, you smoothed it on your thigh before holding it out toward him.

“It’s kinda messy, but maybe you can make sense of this.”

He took it with a curious glance at your face that shifted to the paper. His eyes moved across the page in a quick, back and forth motion that stretched for nearly a minute. “This is an old poem. It uses outdated verbiage and turns of phrase.”

“Can you read it, though?”

He cleared his throat, his eyes leaving the page to look at you. “There’s no way to translate directly, but I could give you a basic interpretation of its meaning.”

You nodded, probably coming off as too eager. Reining yourself in, you said, “I found it in an old book and couldn’t find anything about it online. So I’m— I’m glad you stopped to talk.”

“Of course.” His gaze lingered on your face for several seconds, then he gave the words another look. “It’s about two coeurls who find one another in a jungle. They refer to lovers, which I’m sure you’ve already surmised on the few words you’ve been able to translate. The implication is that one has a personality much like a double-edged sword. A lover that is protective and true but guarded in their own way, much like a coeurl can be.”

You nodded in understanding, absorbing the information with extreme interest. The concept being about lovers wasn’t a surprise, but the deeper meaning behind it made you smile. You tilted your head back, unable to see a star in the sky beyond the lights of the city, and let out a small, delighted laugh. Ravus thought of himself as a coeurl? Your attention fell on Ignis again, to the pattern of the shirt he wore.

“It’s wistful,” he continued, looking up from the paper to let his eyes search yours. “A confession of ardent love and a plea to understand that it’s hidden with regret.”

You sucked in a breath, your teeth catching on your lip. Ardent… love? 

A slow smile came to Ignis’ face, this time reaching his eyes. “You really didn’t know the meaning?”

Seeing that look on his face made you pause, another laugh tumbling out of you a moment later. You snatched the paper from him, folding it up again. “I had some idea. But this was really helpful. Thanks, Iggy.”

You stood up to leave, thoughts already racing in attempt to remember everything Ignis had said. Coeurls. Hiding ardent love with regret. A protective but guarded lover. You could feel your face flush at all of the implications. Did Ravus really think—

A hand grabbing yours halted you in your steps. You looked back at Ignis in surprise, gaze moving from his face to his hand holding yours. His smile had disappeared, replaced with a look of seriousness that seemed more natural on him.

Before you could ask him what was up, he let go and said, “I’m sorry.”

Turning around to face him, your mind came to a stop equal with your body. A sudden apology wasn’t something you’d been prepared for. Lovely feelings had been crowding your chest and making your skin flush as warmly as the humid air that hugged you. Now those feelings were beginning to dissipate as Ignis held your eyes with his own.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He looked up at you earnestly. “At Prompto’s party, I shouldn’t have manhandled you the way I had. I deeply regret letting my anger control me. The look you had on your face…”

Oh. You bit the inside of your lip, eyes growing wide. You’d thought you were past the apology, but it had only been glazed over. You’d been so ready to just move on that you hadn’t fully talked it out. It was beginning to make sense why all of your conversations had been so stilted since you’d left Insomnia. This was the closure Ravus had suggested you seek out. Letting your smile return, you felt a little lighter at hearing Ignis say this. 

“I forgive you, Iggy. It was a huge misunderstanding.” 

Relief overtook his expression, a smile easing onto his face. “Quite the understatement.”

You nodded, feeling relief yourself. This was progress. It didn’t hurt like you thought it would, to hear him admit that he’d let a misunderstanding go so far. For the first time since seeing Ignis again, you were feeling hopeful that a somewhat normal friendship could finally begin to rebuild between you.

—

It took a fair amount of convincing and a pleading look from Prompto to get you to relent in joining the others at some spot along the south coast called Cape Caem. You didn’t want to feel restless anymore, and searching out new job prospects seemed like the best answer. The others thought your restlessness could be helped with actual rest rather than more work.

The Cape was defined by bold winds that whistled in your ears as you walked up its slope toward an old lighthouse. A separate building, large enough to be a boarding house by the look of it, sat halfway up the hill. You followed the others in that direction, your eyes moving upward still, trailing after the tiny, white flowers that dotted the grassy slope. The early evening sun cast everything in a glow of orange, the clouds overhead a mix of pinks and yellows. The place was beautiful, at least.

“You get your own room,” Luna spoke up. 

Stepping into the building, you stopped just inside a foyer that immediately opened into what appeared to be a dining room. You rose a brow at Luna, noticing that she’d finally eased out into her calmer self, the rush of excitement that had propelled her the day before becoming a softer, tamer enthusiasm she held just behind her eyes.

It had occurred to you more than once that you were the odd one out in the party. It didn’t matter when you were traveling, but at every pit stop, it was hard not to notice the way the others paired off. Luna and Noctis were subtle, the brush of her hand down his arm and his quiet chuckle as they looked for snacks.

Ignis and his partner were less so.

You felt like that had been your fault because anyone would overcompensate just a bit when their partner’s ex-lover was around. You had been thankful to be saved from seeing much of their public displays by using Gladio and Prompto as buffers as often as possible. Now that you were being given your own room, being the only single one present made you feel incredibly lucky. Having your own space was important to you.

The wooden floors creaked beneath your feet, and you felt nostalgic for Mom’s house by the sound of it as you explored the large house. There were nearly enough rooms for everyone to have their own. The laundry room was cramped and without a dryer, and the entire first floor was an open space, which made the place drafty.

You walked down the stairs after assessing your room. Ignis had wasted no time on starting dinner, and you inhaled appreciatively at the smell of it. This would be the first warm, non-diner meal you’d had in over a month. Sparing your phone what had to be the hundredth worried glance that day, you approached Noctis and Prompto at the large table centered in the room.

Ravus hadn’t said anything. Still. His silence was deafening, and you were slowly moving on from worried that he was upset at you over the scandalous dress photos to pissed off that he wasn’t keeping his promise to call you more often. Knowing how he felt had made you shy for all of an hour before you’d sent him shot after shot of yourself in that barely-there dress. You hadn’t been sure of how else to answer the love confession of a future Oracle. Even those went unanswered.

“Anyway,” Noct said, pulling your attention away from your thoughts. “I want to visit that seaside camp we passed. We should go tomorrow.”

Prompto nodded, then paused with a frown. “We do that almost every day. I don’t wanna camp.” 

“Nah, just a day trip.”

“I don’t wanna fish.”

“You’re uninvited, then.”

You put away your phone, smiling at the exchange. They had their eyes on their phones —didn’t think to invite you to play King’s Knight?— and occasionally, you could see them shift in their chairs as if kicking one another under the table. Prompto looked up from his phone, opening his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Hm? What?” Noctis smirked, looking up to meet his eyes.

Prompto huffed. “Re-invite me, dude.”

“I’ll think about it.” Noct turned to you, his smirk growing. “You want to come?”

“Maybe.” You fought a snort at Prompto’s look of betrayal.

“Noct, care to offer a hand?”

The prince rolled his eyes while you looked to Ignis. He held a knife in one hand and a carrot in the other.

“Can’t,” Noct said. “King’s Knight.”

At Ignis’ sigh, you got up. “I’ll help.” It was the least you could do. They were giving you an actual bed to sleep in and feeding you for free.

The kitchen space, occupied by both Ignis and his girlfriend, seemed smaller when you joined them, taking the things from Ignis’ hands. You could feel her watching you as Ignis pointed out what he needed you to chop up and where each vegetable went in the recipe. Slow at first, you went through the carrots with care to not cut yourself.

Ignis and his girlfriend seemed to work in tandem around you. The fact that she’d succeeded in ignoring you the entire trip so far was a sort of blessing compared to the bullying you’d anticipated. You felt that, given who you were traveling with, her ire would’ve been stopped pretty quickly anyway. It paid to have everyone on your side. Not that there _were_ sides. You let out a quiet sigh as you dispelled the thought. 

“Everything alright?” Ignis asked, taking the cut carrots from you.

“Just tired from travel,” you said with a shrug. 

He hummed lightly. “Climbing the slope to get here couldn’t have helped, but I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

A smile grew on your face, your chopping movements slowing to a stop as you looked at him. “That’s hill-arious.”

Ignis chuckled, and his girlfriend dropped a dish loudly into the sink with a clatter before excusing herself and brushing past you toward the staircase.

“Don’t mind her,” he said once you heard a door close upstairs.

Encouraged by his easy smile, you began to cut potatoes not letting it bother you. “You going fishing with Noct tomorrow? I’m still de-baiting it.”

Ignis stirred the carrots into a pot, moving on to sear something else in a separate pan. “It is rather entertaining. He’ll catch something small and think he’s the best in the tunaverse.”

Holding back another snort to keep from accidentally cutting yourself, you kept going. “Water you saying? Am I—” A small laugh finally escaped because this was _dumb._ “Am I herring correctly? It sounds like you’re fishing for—”

Your assault of puns and Noct’s distant booing from across the room were interrupted when the front door opened. The knife stilled in your hand, your amusement becoming shock. Ravus stepped through the doorway, his gaze raking across the open space before falling on you. You made _some_ kind of sound, high in your throat, elation suddenly spilling over you in droves.

You put the knife down, abandoning your duty to scramble toward him. Your socks slipped on the polished wood slightly, but you caught yourself before you fell, smoothing a hand down your face as it flushed. You felt mad stupid suddenly, almost falling over yourself while everyone remained in place, apparently as surprised as you were by his arrival.

Standing in front of him, you cleared your throat and controlled yourself. “Hey.”

Ravus closed the door shut behind himself, eyes not leaving yours. “Hello.” 

“Lord Ravus,” Ignis spoke up. “We hadn’t expected you.”

Noctis cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable, though you weren’t willing to turn around to see if it showed in his expression. “Luna said he might make the trip. I didn’t think he would.”

Looking at a point over your shoulder, Ravus let the usual frown on his face pull slightly deeper for a moment. His eyes met yours again when you bounced a little on your feet.

“I’ll go get Luna,” you said, grinning up at him and backing away. You knocked into the table, and turned around with an annoyed look when Prompto snickered at you.

Returning upstairs, you wiped your hands on your thighs in a half-assed attempt to clean them of the slightly sticky wetness from chopping vegetables. You knocked on the door to the room she shared with Noctis, coming in when you heard her call out a vague permission. Solitude was something she needed at least an hour of each day, you found, especially with how crowded she was in Noct’s car with everyone while traveling. She sat in an armchair near a window, flipping through a comic book.

You stopped in front of her, recognizing the issue in her hands. “That’s a good one.”

She looked up and folded it closed with a smile. “I’ll trust your word. I’m trying to see what Noctis enjoys about these, but…” She looked down at it, laughing a little. “I suppose I’m not meant to understand everything about him.”

With an almost impatient nod, you said, “Ravus is downstairs.” 

It was a relief to see her smile grow, to find that someone else was just as excited about his arrival as you were. Now your fumbling wouldn’t seem all that weird. Hopefully.

—

Dinner was taken around the large table, and you very casually took a place at one of Ravus’ sides. He sent you a blank look when you nudged him with your elbow a few minutes into the meal. Keeping your voice quiet, you asked, “Why didn’t you answer any of my messages, papa-gâteau?”

“I’ve been traveling,” he said plainly. “I rushed my tour of the western islands of Accordo so that I would have time to be here.” He did appear worn, now that you were paying closer attention. His robes weren’t as neatly pressed as usual, and the whites of his eyes were slightly pink. Were you going to have to worry about _two_ people overworking themselves now?

Moving the food around your plate with the fork in your hand, you asked, “Tour for what?”

“Healing, primarily.”

You nodded, deciding you’d leave him be for the night. He could get the rest he needed, and you could bother him with less guilt tomorrow after visiting that campsite with Noctis.

He startled you slightly when he brought a hand to your face, thumb swiping the corner of your mouth. Looking over, you caught him just as he pulled the tip of his thumb from his mouth, licking off whatever it was, his expression indifferent.

Melting. That’s how you suddenly felt. You were going to sink into the floor like hot wax, a feeling in your gut bursting into a symphony of warmth.

Gladio cleared his throat loudly from across the table, and you forced yourself to look at your food instead, uncomfortable at the possibility of the others noticing. The last thing you needed was another lecture to “think it through” concerning Ravus. 

Sure, it was a little complicated, but couldn’t you just be two adults who were just really comfortable with one other?

—

Your hands mapped the planes of his broad chest, searching for purchase as you lowered onto him. He let out a low groan from somewhere deep in his chest, a reverberation you felt on your palms. The friction of his cock filling you burned achingly hot, your body falling flush to his.

You curled over him, panting against the skin of his throat. Searching his face for regret, you found only lidded eyes and parted lips.

His hands grasped at your hips, holding you against him before you could start a rhythm. He closed his eyes, heavy breaths escaping him. 

“I want you,” he let out in a low growl. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his mouth, letting him slide out of you almost completely. Then you leaned back, taking him in another smooth motion of your hips. His head arched into the pillow, his jaw tight as you began to move above him.

His fingers dug into your hips, drawing you down harder with each rise and fall, but you felt no pain. Only the searing hot bursts of pleasure that made you shake and filled your vision with nothing but white.

“It’s more than want,” you said, breathy and soft, slowing your hips to a grind against him. “Tell me. Say it.”

His eyes opened, blue and violet tracing every line of your face. He swallowed thickly, the adam’s apple at this throat bobbing underneath the strands of hair that stuck to the sweaty skin of his neck. The hands he had at your hips tightened, and he lifted you from him, his strength taking you by surprise. He let you drop against him, jerking his hips forward to plunge into you harder.

“Don’t stop.” It wasn’t a plea out of him, but a gentle command. 

You let him take over, leaning forward again to rest your forehead against his collar as he fucked you. The thrusts were steady and long, drawn out in languid movements that teased moans out of you.

“Ravus, please,” you whispered against his skin, feeling whole each time his cock sank into you. “Say it.”

He pulled you flush against him, a deep grunt disappearing into your hair. “I shouldn’t.”

Lifting your head, you quickly shook it. “Don’t be afraid.”

He ground upward, into you, his sweaty skin sticking to yours. You let out a breathy moan and felt his body tighten beneath you as he leaned forward to catch the sound with his mouth. Then he rested back, out of breath himself.

“You’re the one who fears.”

Another shake of your head, your body rocking against his now, his hands drawing you down on him in swift jerks. You weren’t afraid. You invited his warmth and guidance.

Your wakeup was sudden but gentle. On the nightstand next to the bed, your phone beeped quietly. Feeling hot under the blankets, you pushed them off and looked around the room blearily. The sun was up, marked by the stripes of bright light that filtered through along the edges of the curtain at the window.

The morning was a busy arrangement of people trying to do a large number of things in a limited amount of space. Prompto passed you on the upper walkway, a wad of clothes in hand. Ignis and his girlfriend stopped talking as you walked past the open door to their room. You mumbled a morning greeting in passing to anyone you saw but didn’t stop because you were _hungry._

You stumbled groggily down the stairs, realizing it must’ve been later than you thought. You’d overslept even Noctis, which was an embarrassment. You caught the prince grumbling something on his way up, completely ignoring the sleepy greeting you threw his way. You looked over your shoulder at him until he disappeared, wondering what could be wrong until you saw Ravus sitting alone at the large table on the first floor.

Oh, but of course.

“Torturing Noct already? You just got here.” You sent him a soft smile, passing the table to see what the kitchen had to offer. For some reason, you felt completely famished even though all you’d done since your last meal was sleep.

Ravus’ eyes flicked up from a newspaper to follow you. He looked much better after a night of rest. “It’s my right as brother-in-law.”

Finding that someone —Ignis, the answer was likely Ignis— had made toast earlier, you picked up a slice and munched on it dry. The fact that Ravus would admit such a familiarity with Noctis made you tilt your head, but you didn’t feel like delving into that subject just after waking. So instead you asked, “How long are you staying?”

“Two days.” He took a drink of something from a mug. “You?”

Rolling a shrug over your shoulder, you shoved the toast into your mouth and looked for something to wash it down with. Speaking around the food, you said, “Who knows.”

With a glass of water, you turned to him again, this time noticing the long look he was still aiming your way. You were alone down here. Alone with Ravus. Memories of your dreams, the most recent one burning in your thoughts, came forward unasked. Your mind hadn’t quite done him justice, his jaw stronger and his eyes sharper than your dreams had allowed.

Your face flushed warmly, and you looked away, drinking the entire cup of water in one go. Glass on the counter, a heavy breath out, you blurted, “Gotta go shower.”

Ravus rose a brow in mild interest before returning his attention to the newspaper without any type of reply. 

On your way past, you added jokingly, “Wanna join?” 

His response was smooth, as if he’d anticipated something like that to come out of you. “Perhaps next time.”

The remark made you smile, though the false memory of him fucking you made it come off strained. You almost stubbed your toe on your way back up the stairs.

—

The sun was high enough in the clear sky that you had to blink against the brightness of it every few minutes. The wind constantly blew your hair into your face, and you kept sputtering as you brushed it away. Gladio and Prompto were the first to join you and Noctis in his fishing excursion. The others straggled, Luna and Ravus catching up and Ignis doing _who knew what_ with his partner before coming down, though only the prince seemed to have brought a fishing rod.

None of that mattered right now, though. You were trying to figure out why you’d agreed to this. Bare toes touching Prompto’s heels, you hugged the cliffside with shaky, sore fingers that gripped the craggy rock painfully. You were both gradually making your way up to a supposedly amazing spot for a photo op.

Shaking and queasy, you shut your eyes tightly to keep yourself from looking down. Through the wind, you could hear Gladio calling out something from far below, and you absolutely despised him more than anyone or anything you ever had in your life. When you had still been able to hear him, his calling had consisted mostly of “don’t fall, juicy!” Like, no fucking shit.

“Just— just a bit more, dude,” Prompto said over his shoulder, not sounding very well himself.

It had only occurred to you seconds before that you weren’t sure how you would get down once at the summit of the cliff. Already, you felt paralyzed. When Prompto had the idea, it quickly became apparent that Gladio would be too big to make the climb along the narrow, sparsely laid out rocks that jutted from the side of the cliff. The thought of Prompto making the trip alone upset you. You’d recalled how anxious it had made you to see him climb the arch in Duscae and insisted you’d go with him.

Okay, so you were remembering how you’d gotten here now, but it wasn’t helping!

Your fingers caught in a crack in the rock, and he began to move on without you. Fuck, okay. The wind pulled at you, and the muscles in your abs and arms burned as you held yourself as close as you could against the cliff until the strong bout passed. Opening your eyes, you eased your fingers out of the crack slowly, the scratches on your palm and between your fingers a reminder that you were progressing.

The caw of a bird made you look away from the cliffside, the sea greeting you in its vast openness, sunlight glittering off of it in waves. The bird flew past, closer than you were okay with, and you made the horrible mistake of looking down. Vertigo pulled at you from every direction, the small figures of the others blurring in your vision. You closed your eyes again, shaking from the chill wind and the terror. Mostly, it was the terror. 

“Prompto, I—” You choked on the words, gritting your teeth before forcing it out. “I’m jumping. I’m bailing, I’m sorry.”

“N-no, don’t.” He began to shuffle back toward you, but you weren’t sure what he thought he could do to help. “We’re not close enough to the water.” 

You couldn’t think, his words passing over you without comprehension. Your grip weakened on the rocky edge, and you let yourself fall back. The ocean crashed loudly below, barely registering over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Your leg slammed against a bit of the jutting, rocky cliff in passing, the pain ripping through your outer thigh the only thing keeping you from losing consciousness. 

Again, you caught against something, this time the obstruction a hard appendage that grabbed your middle. Your falling ceased, the world spinning and leaving you unable to focus. Hard breaths rocked out of both you and the person who held you against their chest. The loud grunt as they hefted you closer told you it was Noctis. When you were able to open your eyes slightly, you saw him grimacing, dangling from a weapon buried in the cliffside.

In a series of quick, shimmering movements that you didn’t understand, your feet were touching solid ground. With legs too weak to stand, you sat on the flat, rocky surface of the camp. Your eyes watered, the pain in your leg close to unbearable. Blood seeped into your jeans, the rips in the fabric revealing deep, red gouges in the meat of your thigh. You touched it tenderly, hissing out a shuttered cry.

Luna’s voice rang through the air, but you could hardly be bothered to listen to what she said.

A shadow fell over you, a large hand grabbing yours and forcing it away from the injury. Gaze snapping up, you were met with a hard, focused expression on Ravus’ face. He ripped your jeans, carelessly tossing aside what came away with his hard grip on the fabric. You grit your teeth, leaning back with a pained noise you tried and failed to suppress.

“Why do you do this?” he asked, his attention on the gashes in your thigh. His hands hovered just above them, almost touching. The heat of his skin was enough to further irritate the already burning feeling you felt at the injury. It was all you could do not to try knocking him away. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you bit out sarcastically. The glow from his hands did nothing to soothe, the magic more painful than it looked as it worked to repair your torn flesh. “Guess I’m just stupid.”

“I won’t argue,” he said, voice quiet with concentration.

You watched him work, the pain slowly subsiding. The wind blew his robes and hair in a disarray. You pulled the loose tie out of your own hair, leaning forward to gather his in your hands.

He drew back, hands still over your thigh, though his eyes left the spot to meet yours in hard confusion. “What are you doing?” 

“Helping,” you said, motioning for him to move closer again. “Let me.”

He pursed his lips. “Now is not the time for braiding.”

“Fine.” You pulled your own mess of hair back, redoing it more tightly. With crossed arms, you went back to watching him focus. He’d pushed his sleeves back, though they only had so much maneuverability, and your blood stained his robes in small splotches as it whipped in the wind.

To get away from the intensity of the dark red on bright white, you looked over his shoulder at Luna, who stood with an active look of concern just across the camp. You lifted a hand in a small wave which she returned with a gentle smile. Ignis was even further, his partner and Gladio at his sides, all looking up at Prompto who continued up the cliff.

You swallowed, unable to make yourself look up there yourself. “Is this the part where you yell at me for making you worry?”

His frown deepened, a sigh heaving out of him heavily. “This is the part where we go back.”

Before you could ask what the hell that meant, his hands left your thigh, an arm curling underneath the back of your knees. He took one of your hands, lifting your arm over his shoulder before wrapping his other arm about your waist. In a fluid motion, he stood, and your free hand came to his robes in surprise at how easily you were lifted.

“I can walk,” you said, wiggling slightly in his arms. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t fight me, ma crevette,” he said, his face forward but eyes slanted to yours sharply. “You’ll lose.”

The walk was surprisingly comfortable, you swaying slightly in his arms as he followed the incline of a trail that led back to the lighthouse. Being held against his chest brought forth memories of your dreams, and for the second time that day, you were flush with feelings of both embarrassment and excitement in equal measure. 

“You have a terrible habit of falling from high places.” Ravus’ words were muted against the wind, but you could hear it well enough due to how close you were. “I was under the impression you were afraid of heights.”

“I am,” you mumbled, face still warm from the lewd inclinations of your subconscious. He held you closer as the hill grew steeper, leaning forward slightly as he climbed. It wasn’t helping. “I didn’t want Prompto to be alone going up there.”

“He seemed perfectly capable of doing so.” There was no hesitation, little room for arguing.

“That doesn’t mean he had to.” You played with the stitching of the Oracle crest on the chest of his robes, turning your wrist over to compare the likeness of your tattoo. A perfect copy. You sighed softly, burying your face into his chest. “Just because you _can_ be alone doesn’t mean you have to be.”

You felt his chest expand as he took in a deep breath and let it, along with the conversation, go. The rest of the walk was a quiet trek accompanied only by the whistle of the wind.

—

With a loose pair of track pants on, you slowly and carefully made your way downstairs to join Ravus on an uncomfortable yellow couch set against one of the walls. There was plenty of room, but you sat on the middle cushion, turning to rest your feet on his lap. His attention shifted downward to your feet for a moment before returning to the book in his hands without comment.

He’d changed out of his robes and into casual clothes. You felt bad about bleeding on him and his important Oracle uniform, but it was nice seeing him more relaxed since this was meant to be a vacation for him. 

You settled in, flipping through the small stack of comic books you’d taken from Noct’s room. He had _so many_ you hadn’t gotten to yet. The hobby of reading them and following the plots had sort of dropped when you’d met Ignis. Picking it up again was another way to make the separation feel slightly more official, like you were shedding a part of yourself you hadn’t realized had been keeping you from enjoying the small things again. 

A quarter of an hour into reading, you laughed quietly at the introduction to a new antagonist in the current issue you read. Their dialogue was just the worst, and you ate it up, flipping through the flimsy pages to see what other stupid things the new character had to say.

Ravus shifted in his seat, lifting your foot by the ankle while he crossed his legs. When he lowered your foot back, his hand didn’t leave your leg. It rested there, on the bit of skin just between your sock and your pant leg. You looked up at the feeling of his warm palm against you, wondering why that felt so intimate when it shouldn’t. 

“Did you like the photos I sent?” you asked, tilting your head down as if you were back to reading though your eyes remained on him.

His jaw tightened slightly, and his hand left your ankle to turn the page in his book. “You shouldn’t send me such improper images.”

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you leaned forward slightly to rest against his side. Your forehead touched his shoulder, the sleeve of his shirt thin enough that you could feel the movement of the muscle as he shifted the book from one hand to the other.

“So you liked them?” You released your lip to laugh a little. “I’m not hearing a _no_.” 

He didn’t answer, his jaw working between tight and relaxed. You warmed at the fact that he wouldn’t admit to anything on the subject.

“Should I wear that revealing dress next time I visit you in Tenebrae?” You curled the comic book in hand, closing it because bothering the person in front of you was much more interesting suddenly. “I could buy it before the autumn festival. Find it in white and wear it on a silent day.”

“You could, but I won’t be in Tenebrae until the year’s end.” 

Nodding slightly, you relented to the fact that your teasing wasn’t working. You sat back a little, resting your head against the couch instead of his shoulder, to look at him. Maybe a different line of questioning would get to him. “Did you move to Altissia for me?”

Finally, his attention was pulled from the book. He looked over at you, his frown evening into something neutral. “Yes.”

His blunt answer made you blink. That hadn’t been the expected reply whatsoever. “Why? It wasn’t a guarantee that I would be there.”

“It wasn’t one of my better decisions,” he said, frown pulling at his mouth again. “You’d only given a vague mention of moving there after university, but I wished to be near you.”

This made you quiet. He was being so straightforward about it, and that was throwing you off. He’d moved to another country to be with you; that needed to be added to list of dramatic things he did without realizing just how dramatic they were. Like trying to start a duel in the middle of a party or using an ancient, obscure poem to profess feelings. 

He let out a breath through his nose as he pursed his lips. Looking down at the book again, he said, “It has been an interesting experience all the same. The people of Accordo need the help and treat me well.”

“That’s… good,” you said lamely, unable to really carry the conversation further. Knowing that he’d moved to Altissia just to be with you made everything he’d said in that confession very tangible suddenly.

_I adore you completely._

You blushed, leaning forward again to rest against him. The comic book slid from your lap as you scooted closer, your chest resting against his arm and legs falling across his. To hide the blush, you placed your forehead against the place where his arm met his shoulder. Your hand wandered down his forearm to grab his hand. You curled your fingers around his, chewing on the inside of your lip to further hide your smile.

Part of you expected him to push back, even knowing what you now knew, but he let you settle there against him. His larger hand squeezed yours, his book going to your legs in his lap to turn the page rather than let go of your hand.

You wanted to tell him how you felt, that you’d thought about it constantly for the past several days since you’d discovered exactly how _he_ felt. You’d learned that there wasn’t a perfect time to tell someone, only that it was better to say it when it was truly felt rather than sat upon to possibly never be said at all.

“Papa-gât—” No, that didn’t seem quite right. You lifted your head to look up at him, meeting his eyes when he sent you a look of soft curiosity. “Ravus, I—”

“Dude!”

Prompto burst through the entrance, looking about the room until he found you on the far end. He rounded the large table, hastily putting his camera down in passing. You felt Ravus tense against you at the approaching man, but Prompto didn’t seem to notice or care that you were nearly in the prince’s lap.

He stopped in front of the couch, practically falling forward as he pulled you into a hug. Your hand left Ravus’, the situation growing awkward quickly as Prompto shifted to sit on your other side without letting you go. Your legs fell away from Ravus’ lap, and you were suddenly sitting far more properly on the couch. Hugging you in a death grip, Prompto heaved a heavy sigh in apparent relief.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said into your hair. “I can’t believe you just _did_ that. You really suck, y’know. I thought you were a goner.”

“I didn’t die so it’s cool.” You patted him on the arm, hoping he’d let go soon.

“Whatever, man.” He let you go and flicked you on the face. The sting of it didn’t hurt so much as startle you. “If Noct hadn’t been there, you’d be a pancake on the campground right now.”

Rubbing your nose, you shoved him away. He stood up, laughing a little as he backed toward the table to pick up his camera. 

“And Ravus, too,” he tacked on, sending a finger gun at the man sitting tense next to you. “Thanks for not letting her bleed out on us.”

Ravus acknowledged it with only a curt nod, his attention never leaving the book in hand. You leaned into him again, regaining that comfortable spot close to him. He didn’t retake your hand in his, but he let you drape your legs over his lap as you returned to the comic book. You smoothed out the pages Prompto had accidentally crumbled in his sudden hug, and flipped through them to find where you’d left off. You hissed a little when Ravus’ elbow came down on the tender part of your thigh that hadn’t healed completely yet.

His eyes grew wide, meeting yours before falling to your leg. “Apologies, ma crevette.”

You shook your head, the pain already fading away. “It’s fine. Just like—” You grabbed his hand, wrapping his arm around your waist so he wouldn’t elbow you again. “There.”

His face morphed into unamusement, the line of his mouth falling flat. It made you laugh, a hand coming up to his cheek because _of course_ he’d think your lack of subtlety was ridiculous. Nothing said _I adore you_ more than a look of impatience when it came from Ravus. Or so you were learning.

He didn’t move away when you went back to reading the comic book. The new antagonist was three absurd lines away from being your favorite character. You laughed quietly as you read, and Ravus’ arm held you more firmly, pulling you close to his side. You rested your head on him, enjoying the closeness.

You’d forgotten Prompto was still there until he cleared his throat. “I take it you guys are staying up here?” 

“Yes,” Ravus answered before you could. 

That seemed to be all Prompto needed to hear. He was out the door without so much as a “later, dudes” a moment later.

In the quiet of the large, creaky house, Ravus pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. Again, you wanted to tell him how you felt, but he’d stolen your voice with the simple action.

—

Better prepared for the winds of the cape, you left the house the next day with a fully recovered leg and hair braided tightly enough that strands weren’t whipping at your face every few seconds. You explored the area alone —Prompto had done it without you the day before and everyone else either knew the place well already or didn’t care— and you found something close to a little farm just further up the slope. It was overgrown with weeds but was clearly fenced in and meant for _something._

You passed the area and a few large rocks on your way up to the lighthouse at the peak of the cape. It towered over everything but somehow didn’t feel ominous. Noctis had offered to take you up a lift to the top, but you didn’t think you could handle being so high up even in the safest of circumstances right now.

You rounded the base, gazing tentatively out at the open sea that made up the horizon. There was nothing behind the lighthouse but a few crates and barrels so you went back around, fearing the unlikely but still scary drop into the sea from the peak of the slope. 

Almost running into Gladio on your way, you caught yourself before tripping right into him. “Lunchtime?”

“Nah, just checking on you, juicy.” He scratched the scruff on his jaw, then crossed his arms. His dark eyes bore down on you, and you rolled your own in response. 

“I’m fine. My leg’s all better.”

“Good to hear,” he said, unimpressed. “But I’m talking about your thing with Ravus.”

You blinked, frowning at him. “Thing? What thing?”

“You know what thing.”

“I really don’t.” You walked past him, eyes roaming the grassy ground. The small, white flowers that dotted the space were pretty. You bent over to pick one. It had a faint sweet smell to it that you immediately liked. “Even if there was a thing, it would be none of your business, juicy.”

You heard him sigh behind you. Instead of addressing it, you began to pick more flowers.

“How’s it none of my business? If you and Iggy talked it out, neither of you would have to keep playing these games.”

With a small bundle of flowers in one hand, your gathering slowed. “I’m not playing a game.”

“You have a weird way moving on, then.” He sounded like he was getting impatient. Funny because you were feeling much the same. “Afraid to commit to Ignis, but you’ll get involved with a prince. What happened to all those times you told me it was nothing?”

“That was before,” you bit out, not finishing the thought. Before you knew Ignis didn’t want you anymore. Before you realized it was okay to grow completely on your own. Before you learned that Ravus had been hiding how he felt for the entire year. “That was when I thought Ignis loved me.”

Gladio inhaled deeply, letting it out in a heavy breath. “He does. He’s always—”

“Stop. Saying that stuff used to get my hopes up, but now it’s just annoying.” You rose to your feet, gripping the flowers in your hands. “I don’t know why you keep doing this, but I want you to stop.”

He deflated under your stare, his arms unfolding and falling from his broad chest. 

“If Ignis still felt something for me, he would’ve said so,” you continued, looking at the flowers and bits of dirt on your hands.

“Right.”

The entire conversation had rubbed you the wrong way so far, but that felt especially irritating on your nerves. As if Gladio knew so much that you didn’t, but really, he knew nothing. The supposed _thing_ between you and Ravus had nothing to do with Ignis. It was insulting that he wanted to keep insinuating that you’d never get over Ignis. That you being with Ignis was inevitable when you didn’t even _want_ that anym—

Your eyes widened at the thought, and Gladio, clearly not knowing what was going through your head, gave you a confused look in return.

“Juicy, I think you need to find a new couple to get invested in,” you said, almost laughing at the stark realization that still rang loudly through your mind. “Maybe you should give Prompto more attention instead of trying to revive a dead romance.”

He rose a brow. “It’s dead, huh?”

You shifted the flowers between your hands, wanting to take them back to the house. Backing that way, you nodded. “Like you said, I’ve got a thing with Ravus.”

You could see the sigh leave him that time, his chest heaving. With a shake of his head, he turned away, done with the conversation. “Sure, juicy. I get it.” 

On your walk down, the flowers in your hand seemed to attract the attention of a bee. Your thoughts were still mulling through your conversation so you didn’t realize you’d made this new enemy until you lifted the flowers up to smell them and the bug landed on your cheek.

Shrieking, you swiped at it and ran, nearly falling on your way up the porch and into the house. Sitting in the room with Ignis and Ravus, Luna seemed to be the only one of the three to startle at your entrance. You shut the door behind you, touching your cheek as your chest shook with quick breaths from your short sprint.

“What’s wrong?” Luna asked, concern all over her expression. She seemed ready to get up from the table. The other two looked at you, but said nothing. Ignis and Ravus had both paused in their separate reading. You couldn’t believe this is what your friends found appropriate vacation behavior. Sitting indoors and reading.

“A bee.” You pointed at your cheek. “It almost stung me on the face. The face I’ve had for twenty two years.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say. After a brief period of rubbing your cheek, you let it go, walking past the table to lounge next to Ravus on the ugly yellow couch. Spreading the flowers on the coffee table, you dusted your hands of the dirt. It was a slow process, weaving the white little blooms into your braid, but it was the soothing practice you needed as you contemplated your newfound awareness.

You were left with one extra flower, rolling the stem between your index finger and thumb. Gazing over to Ravus, you realized he was looking your way. You smiled, feeling oddly happy. Tilting your head back slightly, you brushed the petals of the flower down your cheek and along your neck, eyes focused on his. It left featherlight sensations along your skin as you trailed it down your throat and between the tiniest bit of cleavage that peeked from the collar of your shirt.

Ravus’ expression slackened for a second before he narrowed his eyes and looked away, the faintest pink dusting his face.

You held back a laugh, leaning across the space between you to tuck the flower into his hair. He grabbed your hand before you could pull away, kissing the inked skin of your wrist. When he let go, you had to fight the very real urge to kiss him back.

Hopping up from the couch, you noticed Luna smiling broadly at whatever she was penning into a notebook. Ignis seemed hyperfocused on his own task, and you were glad no one had seemed to notice.

—

Learning to shoot had vastly improved your hand-eye coordination, but you were somehow the worst at darts. When Noctis had challenged Prompto to a game early in the evening, it had somehow devolved into competitive rounds that involved everyone in the house.

Ravus sat in a chair between his turns, reluctant to join every time you all pressed him even though he was one of the better players. You walked around him, skimming your hand along his shoulders as you passed behind his chair. His eyes followed you as you rounded to stand in front of him.

“Looks like you’re up, papa-gâteau,” you said, taking the darts from Ignis who’d just added to Noct’s losing streak. Was it bad that you were looking forward to facing Noctis yourself? He was probably the only one here who seemed to be worse than you were. 

Ravus stood and took the remaining darts from Noctis. It was strange to see them not seeth at each other, even if only temporarily. He rolled them in hand, a soft _clink_ of the metal pieces as he considered you carefully.

“Why don’t we make it interesting?” Ignis’ girlfriend spoke up suddenly.

You turned to her, surprised that she’d said anything at all. So far, her interactions had been limited to everyone except you. Even Ravus had been face with a short conversation with her over breakfast that morning. The gaudy, golden necklace sat heavily over her chest, as it always did, and your eyes were drawn to it, as they always were.

“We could place bets each turn,” she said, her eyes meeting yours for the first time since the others had joined you at the Chocobo Post. “Whoever loses must give up what they bet to the winner.”

You snapped your fingers, liking the idea despite the fact that you hadn’t won a single round yet. “Let’s do it.” Turning to Ravus, you looked at him thoughtfully. “I wanna bet… A hundred gil.”

“Laaaame,” Prompto called from across the room, his hands cupped on either side of his mouth. “Something besides money.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t have anything else.” Digging hands into your pockets, you came away with a few hair pins, a chapstick, and the carbuncle doll. You put everything back but the little figure. “Okay, I bet my carbuncle.” You lifted it up to Ravus’ face in challenge, even though he had yet to say anything so far, let alone anything antagonizing.

He reached into his robes with his free hands, coming away with a small, golden hourglass. The sight of it made you lower your hand, your expression easing into soft surprise.

“You still have it?” Your voice grew softer.

“Of course I do,” he said plainly.

You watched the sand shift inside the hourglass, then looked up at him with a warm smile. “You’re gonna bet the memory of our first date?”

His fingers curled over the golden piece, his hand sliding it back into his pocket. “Is that what we were doing?” 

You shrugged, doing the same with the carbuncle. Readying the dart in your hand, you made a couple of practice swings, looking over your shoulder before actually throwing it. “I dunno, was it?”

A loud _twack_ told you that you’d hit something, and when you faced forward, you were dismayed to see the dart had buried itself into the wall just below the board. Okay, so you weren’t doing yourself any favors by trying to be cool.

“Might do better if your eyes were on the board,” Ignis intoned from your other side.

You elbowed him with a light laugh. “Shut up, Iggy. I’m not well-trained in throwing knives or whatever like the rest of you.”

He caught your elbow, a smirk overtaking his expression. “You don’t appear to be well-trained in anything.”

Gaping a little, you pulled your arm from his gentle grip and pointed at him. “You’re next.” 

A short, loud succession of _thud, thud, thud_ brought your attention back to the board. Ravus’ darts had all landed near the bullseye. You turned your surprise onto him next. “Couldn’t wait your turn?”

He peered down at you, unamused. “Not when you’re wasting your own by chattering.”

You scoffed lightly, using your remaining two darts to try and knock his off the board more than actually land any points. In the end, you accomplished neither. While Prompto laughed, gathering up all of the darts for the next round, you turned to Ravus with an affected sour look. From your pocket, you withdrew the carbuncle.

“I guess you can try to bless it on your own time now,” you said, offering it out to him. When he reached up and closed your hand around it, you frowned. “Don’t want it anymore?” Your eyes searched his face, taking in the soft arches of his brows and the hard line of his mouth as you stepped closer. “Or do you want something else?”

He leaned forward slightly, and you felt your eyes fall shut. Would he really— in front of the others? The pull of him was strong, his hand over yours both warm and comforting. Your heart beat just a bit faster in your chest. You’d wanted this all day.

“Did you say he could bless something?” Luna spoke up, sounding terribly close. 

When your eyes shot open, your head tilting toward her, you caught an extremely amused look on her face. You backed away from Ravus who let go of your hand to cross his arms.

“I’m not there yet,” he said, looking at his sister.

When they began to delve into a conversation about Oracle duties, you slowly backed away. Prompto and Noctis were back at it with the darts, betting things with each other like Cindy’s autograph and a limited edition copy of a video game. Ignis was standing as a barrier between his girlfriend and Gladio, who looked to be antagonizing her if the smug look on his face was anything to go by. This was a common occurrence, you’d realized over the past few days together.

“Just ignore the big guy,” you told her, walking their way. “He hates when anyone takes Iggy’s attention away.”

She looked at you as if shocked you were talking to her. Hadn’t she just broken the ice between you earlier? Was this night not the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Okay, no. Even you couldn't get away with laughable thoughts like that.

Gladio threw an arm over your shoulder, saying something to her that had her scoffing. It fell deaf on your ears, though, because you were once again reminded of how tired Ignis actually looked. You sent him a smile when he met your gaze. His taut expression eased, his eyes holding yours for a moment before averting. He followed his girlfriend when she walked away, stopping at the bottom of the staircase to snap her fingers at him. 

Maybe it wasn’t your problem that he was overworking himself or that his partner seemed to have a weird hold over him, but, as his friend, it was a concern you couldn’t ignore for much longer. You didn’t have to get to the bottom of it; you just had to find a way to help him, hopefully without getting involved.

— 

Pacing the confines of your room, you played with the hem of your night shirt. Ravus was leaving in the morning. He had real responsibilities and couldn’t just hang around with the rest of you, goofing off in the countryside. You were itching to leave yourself, if you were honest. Being busy with work was better than constantly lounging around and hoping for something interesting to happen. You were still, in a word, restless.

Ravus’ impending departure had that feeling growing tenfold. Who knew when you’d get to see him again? He wasn’t going to be in Insomnia for the winter holidays since he’d still be in Altissia during that time. The next time you could guarantee a visit would be, what— if you were invited to the autumn festival at Fenestala manor a _year_ from now?

The thought was depressing.

Deciding to forego polite behavior —really, it had never been in your nature anyway— you stopped hemming and hawing and left your room. The house was dimly lit, most of the lights turned off save for the overhead that spotlighted the large table on the first floor. Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis were sat around it, cards being slapped on the table, laughter and unintelligible conversation reaching up to you in small bursts.

You walked along the hall, not hesitating in your attempt to get into Ravus’ room. Expecting the door to be locked, you were slightly jolted to find yourself bursting into his room more dramatically than intended. The room was strangely empty. You closed the door gently behind yourself, looking around at the sparse nature of things. He’d only brought one bag of belongings, which sat on the dresser that rested against the far wall. The entire space was shockingly similar to your own room, a fact that delighted you. Here, in this weird shack of a house, you and Ravus were briefly on an equal level.

The door to his bathroom swung open, steam wafting through the doorway and into the bedroom. Ravus walked through it, a towel hanging loosely at his waist, another in his hand that he used to dry his hair. You froze at the foot of his bed. There hadn’t been any sound from the bathroom, no running shower to warn you of this.

The moment he realized you were there, he stopped in place, still as a statue. Water dripped from his wet hair, landing along his broad chest and sliding down his defined stomach. Your eyes followed the lines of his toned muscle, down to the v that tapered beneath his lower abs and disappeared into the towel. Forcing your gaze up was hard, but you succeeded after a lingering stare.

His expression was wildly uncomfortable, eyes abnormally wide and searching. You couldn’t be sure if it was from the heat or embarrassment, but he flushed deeply, a lovely red overtaking his pale skin from his face down to his chest. “Why are you in here?”

“You’re naked,” you blurted in response, your own face growing hot.

He gripped the towel at his waist with his free hand and scowled at you. “Leave.”

You threw your hands up, holding your face, though it did nothing to stop the furious blush. The grip he hand on the towel made it ride up a little, revealing more of his pale, muscled thighs. Oh, gods. He was so incredibly naked right now. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t _know_ you were in the shower.”

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, walking to his bag and grabbing several articles of clothing before going back to the bathroom. When the door shut with a slam, you fell onto his bed and groaned.

Seeing that much of him hadn’t been a part of your plan. You weren’t going to let your libido alter your intentions in showing up to his room. There were real and true thoughts and feelings driving this visit, a huge change in your usual approach to people you were interested in.

Pre-Ignis, you had thrown yourself at anyone so long as they seemed safe. Post-Ignis, you hadn’t done anything beyond touch Throbert with your mouth, and you had to be real with yourself, that had been more of a self-imposed punishment and ill-advised rebound more than an actual relationship.

Rolling over on the bed, you looked at the wavy lines of paint on the ceiling. A sigh fell out of you, soft and tired with yourself. You could do this. The prospect felt good because you’d learned how to trust your feelings. You’d pushed Ignis away in fear before, and that had resulted in a few of the worst periods of your short life. Fighting how you felt had done nothing but make you miserable in the past. You could _do_ this.

You sat up when the bathroom door opened again, both grateful and not that he came out fully dressed. The shirt had long sleeves, but it was thin and left little to the imagination with how it conformed to him. You felt like you were being visually assaulted, pressed upon when all you’d come here to do was admit that you liked him back.

He crossed his arms, gaze moving from your face to the bed and back. He clearly thought your intentions were unsavory. “Did you need something, ma crevette?”

You cleared your throat, heart feeling as weighty as the words you wanted to get out. “I read the—” You chewed on your lip, already re-thinking the words to make sure they came out right. When you’d been pacing your room, you’d deliberated reciting a part of the Tenebraen poem he’d sent, but that seemed silly now.

Releasing your lip, you stood up and stepped toward him. “I, um, I love you. That’s all.”

Turning on your heel, you made for the door. There. You said it. He already knew you loved him, but you hadn’t said it since things had become murky between you so he had to know this meant more than it had before. He knew exactly how difficult it was for you to say those words in the first place. 

At the door, reaching for the door handle, you were stopped by a gentle grip on your wrist. Excitement budded in your chest, and you looked back at him. His apparent want for you to not leave gave you the courage to admit more.

“I found your message,” you said. “The one with the poem about— about the coeurls.”

Your breath quickened when he took your other hand in his, making you face him fully. His lips parted, his damp hair tousled as if he’d hastily brushed it back with his fingers before leaving the bathroom. He said nothing, closing his mouth and searching your face.

“You never said it back, y’know,” you said, words tumbling out of your mouth now without filter. “Not once. I kinda worried you hated me sometimes.” 

He blinked slowly, sharp eyes staring you down. “Does it need to be said to make it true?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but you found yourself unable to argue. The soft kisses, his willingness to put up with your goofy nonsense, every time he shared a quiet moment with you— he’d been saying it. Spoken through action, he’d been telling you how he felt since the year had begun.

A smile grew on your face, and you shook your head. His hands were warm around yours, his expression softening considerably at your smile. Slowly, he pulled you toward him. It seemed deliberately delicate, the way he let go of a hand to brush a thumb across your cheek; he wanted you to be able to stop if you didn’t like this.

You caught a light grip on his shirt, and he let you pull him down into a kiss. Finally, you thought. Finally you could kiss him, and there’d be no confusion between you, no worry about what the others would think.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the gentleness that he used with you; his lips were unbelievably soft in their movement against yours. But you’d just confessed your _love_ to him. Didn’t that deserve a bit more? You pulled your hand from his to push him back by the chest. His surprise was sudden. He dropped his hands and backed away a step.

“No, it’s—” You stepped toward him, taking one of his hands into both of yours. “You don’t have to hold back.” 

His eyes were locked with yours, several heartbeats passing as he seemed to wait for you to be sure of your statement. Then he was taking your face into his hands, fingers curling into your hair as he crushed a kiss to your lips. You met his intensity with your own, pressing into him. Your hands grabbed at his shoulders, damp from his hair. He needed to be closer, there wasn’t enough—

One of his hands fell from its place in your hair. He touched your waist tentatively, then drew you flush against him. The surprise of the move made you gasp lightly, a noise he masked with his mouth, an opportunity he took to invade yours with his tongue.

You moaned into it, relishing in the feel of his body pressed to yours. His mouth was searing, still unpracticed if his uncoordinated exploration of you was anything to go by. You were taken by the ferocity of it, though. His arm held you tightly against him, his mouth devouring every soft sound you made.

You had to pull away to breathe, your chest heaving and heart racing because _this man was an actual dream._ Your hands slid down his chest, slowing to feel every defined line of each muscle. He leaned forward, forehead resting against yours as he relaxed into your curious hands.

“Let me stay in your room tonight.”

The request was soft and breathy, biting back the desperation you actually felt. This was only a taste of him, and you were selfish enough to want more before you parted ways.

He brought a hand to your chin, lifting your gaze upward to meet his. “You know we can’t.” His words caressed your lips in a soft breath, his hand smoothing across the column of your neck to find purchase at your nape. His eyes were lidded, his nose skimming along yours gently.

The signals were mixed, but you were picking up on the more persuasive of his inclinations. Stepping forward, you  pushed him back with your hands on his abdomen. With each step, you pressed a quick, light kiss to his mouth to keep him from confusing your gesture with an attempt to push him away.

When the back of his legs met the bed, he refused to fall back. You fisted a hand into the soft fabric of his shirt, chewing on your lip as you met his resistance with a persistence of your own.

“We’ll just sleep,” you said. “I want to be next to you.”

You loosened your grip on his shirt, raising your hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and tilted his head into your touch.

“You say that as if it were so simple.”

Indignation, slight and softened by the situation, leaked into your expression. “I do have self control, y’know.”

His eyes cracked open, pupils blown wide as if your presence alone was intoxicating. Slowly he nodded, and you knew he was putting a great trust in you with this. 

When you pushed him again, he sat on the bed. Your natural urge was to press him back completely, to climb him and see how quickly you could make him fall apart before you even got beyond his waistband. But his trust kept you at bay.

Your hands fell to touch his knees as you stepped between his legs, smoothing your hands up his thighs slowly. He caught your wrists before they went too far, and you laughed a little into the kiss you pressed to his jaw.

“Sorry.” A whisper against his skin. Changing your course, you tried to kiss down his jaw, to taste the skin of his neck. But he seemed to have a fascination with your hair. He let go of your wrists to touch it softly. 

The flowers from earlier in the day had almost entirely fallen out, but he came away with one, a soft chuckle escaping him —gods, what a sound— before he caught a renewed grip on your tangled braid to tilt your head back. He scraped his teeth against the delicate arch of your neck, little bites that almost stung. His tongue followed, soothing the skin with slick movements.

A particularly rough graze of his teeth made you whimper softly, a noise you’d never made before. Your hands coiled into his damp hair, urging him to continue. He bit harder, sucking on the tender place with fervor. You shivered under the attention, arching your back, chest growing flush to his.

A booming laugh from Gladio rang loudly from downstairs. It threw you off, your lust-clouded mind becoming a bit clearer at the racket. Ravus released you, leaving a wet spot on your neck that felt cool in the stale air of the room. His hands slid down your arms before he drew away fully and leaned back to meet your eyes.

You needed to cool off. His eyes alone were giving you unwarranted flashes of your dreams that featured him. Which seemed to be all of them anymore. You let go of him, quickly leaning forward to kiss him before backing away.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth. Be right back.” As your heart began to steady, you made your way to the door.

Leaving his room, you padded down the upper walkway to your own. Brushing our teeth was an ordeal. You rushed at first, then caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and decided your hair was unacceptable. You undid the braid, shaking out the remaining flowers. You ended up leaving it down, your concern moving on to finding a cuter top to sleep in. When ten minutes had passed, you found yourself pacing your room all over again with two equally unsexy sleep shirts in hand.

Laughing softly at yourself for getting so worked up over nothing, you tossed them both into your bag and ran your fingers through your hair. Stop overthinking, you told yourself. It as only sleep. Your hair was going to look bad no matter what, and his eyes were going to be closed the entire time. On your way back, you repressed the giddiness that had begun to well within. It was going to be impossible to sleep if you didn’t get a grip.

The small gathering of the guys seemed to be in full form downstairs. You smiled at their muted banter, glad that they were finding time to catch up. And to distract one another form your goings-on, but that was neither here nor there.

Ravus was already in bed when you re-entered his room. Back against the headboard, he looked up from the same book he’d been reading his entire stay and lay it flat on his lap. Locking the door behind you —one could never be too sure— you paused mid-step when you noticed something different about him.

“You’re shirtless.”

He put the book on the bedside table, the blanket slipping to cover just below his waist. “You’re observant tonight.”

“I’m not complaining, but why?” You stopped yourself form ogling, crossing the room to pull the covers back and crawl into the bed next to him.

“It’s far too warm in this house.”

That made sense coming from someone who usually resided in a cold castle atop a mountain. You made yourself comfortable, laying on your side and drawing the blankets over yourself. Facing him, you watched as he followed suit, clicking off the light as he went. In the darkness, you reached for him, fingertips finding the bare skin of his collar bones. 

He grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Go to sleep.”

“I dunno if I can,” you admitted. “I’m too excited about this sleepover.” Shifting closer to him, your toes touched his shins, your other hand meeting his chest. “Wanna talk about our crushes and share secrets?”

He hummed quietly as if in thought. He let go of your hand and touched your hip, his hand smoothing along your waist before his arm drew you closer. Despite the hard ridges of lean muscle, his body was comfortable fully pressed against yours. “I find your habit of stating the obvious while you’re flustered rather endearing.”

You let out a soft snort against his chest, resting your head there. You reveled in the warmth and safety of his hold. His soft admittance had you feeling doubly warm. “I think it’s cute how your blush extends further than I could’ve imagined.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out in a contented sigh. His lips brushed your forehead as he bid you to rest again. This time, it actually seemed to have an effect, your eyes growing heavy.

“Goodnight, papa-gâteau,” you murmured, snuggling into him. 

All you received was a low hum, then you were out.

—

Waking up in someone’s arms wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it had been so long since your last dalliance that you were slow to react when Ravus kissed you before you could even open your eyes. It was insistent, a press of his mouth that forced yours open. You moaned into it, arms wrapping around his neck to invite him in. His hands roamed your body freely, sneaking underneath your shirt to play with your breasts. 

Where had this been the night before, you thought vaguely, arching into his touch. He broke the kiss to nip at your jaw, moving to your ear, where he tugged at your lobe gently.

“I want you to say my name,” he said, his voice low and sultry. He pinched your nipple, hand kneading at one breast before giving attention to the other.

“Papa-gâ—” 

“No.” 

You opened your eyes. They felt abnormally heavy, but you forced them open to see Ravus pulling your shirt up, ducking to take the peak of a breast into his mouth. His eyes remained on yours, the sensation of his tongue flicking the sensitive flesh making your blood rush. 

“Ravus,” you panted.

He released you with a smirk. His hand slid between your legs, fingers finding you wet already. “Again.”

You arched into the bed when a finger slid inside. His touch was white hot and achingly slow. His name came out again, this time in a shuddered breath behind gritted teeth. Your eyes closed, hands grabbing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin to encourage more attention.

A loud sound woke you. The slam of a door that broke through the quiet of the room. It was jarring, breaking you into a clearer reality. Your heart was racing. It had felt so real, but now you were stirring, eyes blinking open in time to see Ravus walk across the room and climb into the empty spot on the bed next to you.

“Morning,” you mumbled, reaching for him.

He grunted softly in return, eyes already closed. Curling yourself close, you took in the smell of him. Somehow both clean and musky, and entirely consuming. The mild dream had left remnants of lust in you. Sleepy as you were, it came out in a soft moan as you slid a hand over his chest. His breath hitched audibly in the silence, but he didn’t stop you.

Sliding your hand over the contours of his stomach and side, you roamed further down. A vague wonder flitted through your mind at where he’d been before coming back to bed. A second thought followed immediately at how likely it was that you could make that naughty dream he’d woken you from a reality. It had ended far too soon.

Your hand touched his hip, roaming further down than you expected him to let you. In your wandering, you felt a hardness. Something in his pocket. You traced fingers over it curiously. Extremely solid, it held the thickness of— of an Ebony can. You tried to worm your hand into his pocket to grab it, but he took hold of your wrist. It was a firm grip, just loose enough to not hurt.

Your eyes snapped open when you were rolled onto your back, Ravus looming over you. His expression was taut, his jaw tight and mouth set to a frown. “Hands to yourself.”

His leg had landed between yours when he’d rolled over onto you. Coupled with his words of restraint, the press of his thigh against you was torture. He held your wrist against the bed next to your head, and when you tried to wiggle out of his grip, it only tightened.

It was then that you realized it wasn’t a can of Ebony in his pocket. You felt it against your thigh, the hard length of his cock. You’d accidentally teased his morning wood, and now he was upset, pressing you into the bed, strands of his hair framing your face. Light breaths left his parted lips, and a soft flush came to his cheeks.

You leaned up to kiss him, but he avoided it. Instead, you lips grazed his cheek. Head falling back on the pillow, you pouted at him. You felt your blood sing at this situation. Ravus wanted you; the proof lay in his arousal that pulsed against your thigh, in the way he shifted his leg upward, a slow grind against you.

Moving your hips to create a greater friction, you let a breathy whine escape in hopes that he would give in. It wasn’t fair, and you knew it. He’d been clear in his abstinence from going further than a kiss even if his reasoning hadn’t been explained.

“Please,” you whispered, grinding against him.

He stopped you with a kiss, one that lingered as if he had all the time in the world to taste you. It did well to distract, an outcome you were okay with if it meant he was closer to crumbling. Breaking it, Ravus closed his eyes and drew his head back.

“Stop behaving as though you are the only one with these desires. If you beg, I—” His jaw pulled tight for a moment. “I am merely a man. I need you to control your curiosity for I have my own to keep in check.” 

“Why not let go?” It was out of you before you even realized you’d spoken. “I-I wouldn’t mind.”

His eyes opened, heavily lidded. “Nor would I. But beyond this bed, outside these walls, more is expected of me. Every action comes with a consequence.”

This was an intensity you didn’t find surprising coming from him, but the words weighed heavily on you still. Why had your thoughts and intentions gone so lewd so quickly? It wasn’t often you woke up horny with someone you actually wanted to sleep with; you bit back a sigh at your low sense of willpower.

“I get it,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He pressed another slow kiss to you mouth, drawing it out with languid patience. Your body burned beneath his. This _wasn’t_ helping. When he pulled away, there was definite heat in his eyes. A few Tenebraen words fell from his mouth before he cut himself off, the barest smile pulling at his lips. “You are… marvelous.”

You stared up at him for a heartbeat. Then you laughed before you could help it, quiet and badly muffled as you bit your lip. His expression remained unchanged, but he removed himself from you, sitting up on the bed. You followed him up, moving the joint of your wrist now that it was free.

“You say that like you only just realized how great I am,” you said, biting back another giggle.

He got up from the bed, stretching a little and not answering your tease. You unashamedly stared at his erection, pulled tight against himself at an odd angle in his pants. No wonder you’d thought it was something in his pocket. When he went into the bathroom, you laid back again, willing your body to calm down.

—

Ravus was set to leave just after breakfast. You stood around outside the house with the others while he and Luna spoke privately inside. Prompto was growing visibly restless, and as much as you enjoyed being with all of your friends in one place, you were glad to see him this way because you ready to get back out there, too.

“Think it’s time we set out?” you asked, playing a little anxiously with the carbuncle in your pocket.

Prompto nodded, and Gladio furrowed his brows, making a noncommittal grunt before asking, “What’re you planning to do?” 

“Back to cruisin’ Lucis, I guess,” Prompto said. 

“Yeah, cruisin’ for pussy.”

Your comment had the desired effect. Ignis sighed, and Noctis hid a short laugh as a cough, looking away. Prompto and Gladio seemed to be having some kind of separate, silent conversation of their own. You looked between Ignis and Noctis, but the prince was avoiding eye contact, and Ignis simply shrugged.

When, minutes later, you were seeing Ravus off, you spent the walk down to the gravel car lot by his side. As much as you wanted to fill the air with chit chat —even considering repeating the line from earlier without context just to see a reaction out of him— you felt contemplative and quiet, not yet ready to part with Ravus despite your eagerness to leave the windy cape.

The goodbye didn’t seem to want to come. His car to Galdin Quay, a sleek black SUV with extremely tinted windows, waited by the road. He turned to you before anyone else, and it seemed like neither of you knew what was meant to come next.

So you made a sudden decision.

You leaned up on the tips of your toes, polite company be damned, and kissed him on the chin. Falling back to the flats of your feet, you grinned up at his stunned expression. That was a nice look. Maybe you needed to do such bold maneuvers more if that was the kind of adorable, wide-eyed look he would give you. 

While you thought this over, he bent slightly and rose a hand to your chin. Then he kissed you. It was short and chaste, but it left your mouth tingling. The move made you freeze, your own eyes widening as he drew back.

It came out in a simple statement, as if he’d said it to you a million times before. “I love you.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open. It suddenly felt like the ground had been pulled out from beneath your feet. The kiss was one thing, but for him to just _say it._ Well played, you thought as your heart began to thud loudly in your chest, in your ears.

“I love you, too,” you let out in a rush of breath. Your skin warmed, and you could feel the blush burn hot and quick, right to the tips of your ears.

The goodbye was harder than you anticipated, and you kicked at the gravel when the SUV disappeared around a bend in the road with him in it. Once back in the house, your new agenda was to pack and get the hell out of this place. It was only going to make you think of him now. Not that that was a bad thing, but you had a lot to process and get through.

It seemed as if the others did, too. 

Gladio kept sending you wary glances, Noct avoided you entirely, and Prompto kept nudging you with his elbow like he was the king of the fucking castle. Ignis said very little, a sharp frown pulling at his mouth anytime you saw him. You were thinking about this when Prompto slinked into your room with a godsawful grin. 

“You _love_ each other, dude?”

Rolling a casual shrug over your shoulders, you said, “Sure. It’s like that, I guess.”

“You guess?” He snickered, flopping himself onto your bed without a care. “That was— It was weird. I think Noct is having a breakdown over it.”

You couldn’t help the warm feeling that coiled and tightened in your chest. The reactions of your friends weren’t going to deter you. “I slept in his bed last night. Like, we just _slept._ It was nice.” You shoved a shirt into your bag and looked over to see him gape.

“You don’t have to lie, dude,” he laughed again, but it was slightly awkward this time. “Everybody can see what he did to your neck.”

You paused in your packing, turning to him fully. “My neck?”

He pointed at a place near his throat. “The bruise?”

You hastily went to the mirror and gasped at the obvious mark Ravus had left on your skin. It must’ve been from the night before. He hadn’t said anything about it all morning. Your fingers touched it gently, though it didn’t hurt at all. Thoughts of everything that had happened between you began to flood your mind. 

Turning around sharply, you pointed at Prompto. “This morning, I thought his dick was a can of Ebony.”

“You what now?” He got up from the bed, blinking at your sudden statement.

Patting the place just below your abdomen where it had been on Ravus, as if that would somehow help your explanation, you said, “He had morning wood. I thought it was Ebony in his pocket.”

Prompto shook his head, lifting his arms as if he were done with this conversation. “Nope. I don’t wanna hear about this.”

You scoffed lightly, amused at the sudden one-eighty in his interest over the subject of Ravus. Following him out of the room, you persisted. “It was _so hard,_ I seriously thought it was a can.”

“Stoooooop,” he whined, covering his ears and descending the staircase.

“It’s gotta be the perfect thickness for my hand, dude,” you said as you trailed after him. “And like, I saw that it was pretty big by the outline.”

He groaned, dropping his hands once he reached the first floor. “Seriously, stop!” 

From across the large space, Ignis spoke up, “What’s the issue?”

When you both turned to him, he stood just beyond the kitchen, one hand on his hip and a can of Ebony in the other. His gaze moved between you curiously before he lifted the can to his mouth and took a drink.

Prompto slapped hands over his face. “Iggy, _nooo._ ” 

You leaned on the shoddy balustrade at the bottom of the staircase, eating up Prompto’s discomfort. “Hey, Iggy, do you like a good, stiff Ebony in the morning?” 

He furrowed his brows at you while Prompto groaned into his hands. “That’s a rather strange way to describe it, but I do suppose they make the long, hard days easier to handle.” 

Prompto dropped his hands dramatically. “I hate both of you.”

He stomped his way out of the house, and when Ignis sent you a questioning look, you could only shrug on your way back up the stairs. At least Prompto wouldn’t be giving you a hard time over Ravus anytime soon. 

Walking back to your room, you were suddenly pulled into a room as you passed along the upper walkway. Luna smiled at you before pulling you into a hug. Not sure why she was feeling so cuddly all of a sudden, you stood there and just let it happen.

When she pulled back, she held a grip of your arms, her smile kind and eyes oddly blazing as if full of ideas. “I’d thought—” she giggled. “I knew you and my brother were close friends, but this is just as wonderful.”

Okay, you _really_ didn’t know what she was so excited about. This didn’t mean you were going to be her new sister or transform Ravus into a kinder, gentler person.

“I’ve only heard him say he loved me or our mother.” She let go of your arms, taking one of your hands instead in a firm squeeze. “To me, that makes you family.”

You returned her smile tentatively, both touched and terrified that she’d say this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, guys, do you think they’re moving too fast?
> 
> Ebony coffee’s slogan is _big flavor in a small package._ I’m sorry, Ravus lmao
> 
> If you're interested, there is a oneshot _hypothetical_ [Prompto/Reader/Cindy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885675) situation that occurs sometime between this chapter and the next.
> 
> Thanks for coming back and reading. You’re all the best. <3


	5. I don't really know what I'm doing, but I want to be here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't do long distance relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only mildly nsfw scenes to worry about are two nerds bumbling through some attempt at phone sex and then, I dunno, boob worship. And look, I just want everyone to know, this embarrasses me immensely even though they are very tame. I'm breaking out of my comfort zone one scene at a time.

Sweat dripped down your body in heavy beads, trickles of it catching at your joints. It made your skin itch. You held back a cough; your throat felt thick. The heavy smell of sulfur that surrounded you was relentless, an assault on your senses that had you repeatedly holding your breath even though it was useless. You tried to blink away the burning sting at your eyes, but that, too, was useless.

Holding Prompto’s camera, your hands shook, and you were pretty sure the soles of your boots were melting as you walked. The incline only increased with each step, the ground growing hotter and the air thicker with ashy particles.

“It’s not that gay,” Prompto said, looking at you over his shoulder. He needed to because you were slowing with every few meters up this godsforsaken volcano.

“It is,” you insisted. “I’d even say it’s _gayer_ than that.”

Prompto laughed, shaking his head. The map in his hands was wrinkled and torn, and he kept shifting his head up and down to make sure you were following the right path. You didn’t feel like there was much a path at all. Just craggy rocks and the potential to be melted if you let yourself get trapped in an enclave.

“How is it gay when his love interest is a woman, huh?”

To take your mind off of potential death —this was a two thousand gil job— you’d spent the entire trek arguing about the sub plot of a comic series you’d finally caught up on. So far, it was doing its job, but it didn’t completely dispel the fear and sweat that itched at the back of your neck. On a mountain that was forever almost erupting, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

“He’s confused about his sexuality,” you said. “He fell in love with the villain after chasing him for so long. Honestly, it’s a cliche at this point.”

Prompto sighed, grunting a little as he jumped from one rock to another. When you followed, you peered down at the narrow but deep chasm between the rocks and swallowed hard. The things you did for money. It wasn’t like you were hurting for it, but Prompto really needed it after almost six months on the road, most of which he spent by himself so he’d had little self control when it came to spending.

“But at the end of the day, he went home to his girlfriend because she was always there for him,” Prompto said, stopping to squint at an interesting formation in the rocks nearby. You let out a relieved breath at the sight of it. That was your last photo op needed before leaving Mt. Ravatogh. Fucking finally.

You let him get up on a higher ledge before passing the camera to him. “Dude, the last panel shows him visiting the villain in prison.”

“For questioning, I bet.”

“Questioning about _what_? He’s already in jail.”

Prompto snapped a photo and leaned down to pass the camera back to you. “I dunno. There’s always…”

You stared up at him, taking the camera and watching him climb back down to your level. “He visited the prison with _flowers._ ”

Prompto rolled his eyes, laughing a little as you finally began your walk down. “Okay, whatever! He’s confused and kinda gay. _Everybody_ is. I read it for the action, anyway. Not the mushy stuff.”

You snorted, tossing the camera strap over your neck. Following him down the steep incline, you went about it slowly, bits of rock and pebble shifting beneath your boots with each step. This was your last job. After this, you’d go to Lestallum; then it was on to Insomnia. And you were stoked for it. Two months of smelly travel was more than enough _post-grad, finding yourself_ nonsense for you.

“Doesn’t Ravus care that you’re taking Ignis to that premiere as your date?” Prompto spoke up halfway down. He sounded flippant but his shoulders tensed. “Aren’t you a _thing_ now?”

“We’re not a thing.” You were too focused on getting down the mountain before your boots melted right off your feet, otherwise you would’ve tried to trip him for even bringing up this subject. Again. “We’re just good friends.”

Prompto laughed. “No, dude, you and me? _We_ are good friends. You’ve got a prince who loves you and goes out of his way to keep in touch.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, gripping onto a large rock to steady yourself through a particularly perilous area before speaking again. “Why does it matter that he’s a prince?”

With a shrug, Prompto turned slightly to grab your hand and help you through a more narrow space. “I always noticed with Noct that being a prince is pretty damn busy. So it’s kinda huge that dad-cake talks to you every day.”

“ _You_ talk to me every day.”

“Maybe I have it bad for you, too.” He laughed, a light blush coming to his sweaty face despite the obvious joke of it. “But something tells me you’d choose a prince over a common guy like me. I mean, _I_ would.”

“I dunno, Prom,” you said, letting go of his hand once the path widened again. You took the lead, knocking his shoulder with your own as you passed. “We could get a single room in Lestallum this time and stop denying ourselves after all these years.”

When you looked back, he’d grown a darker shade of red, and you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“You always do this when I bring up Ravus,” he complained. “I wish you’d admit that you’re dating. You already said the big, bad L word.”

The incline began to slowly even out, the air less assaulting and the ground less dangerous. You felt your body ease slightly, tension there that you hadn’t even realized was there. You could see the road a distance away.

“We’re not dating,” you said, resisting the urge to check your phone for any messages now that you were in a serviceable area again. “Long distance relationships don’t work.” It didn’t hit you just what you’d said until it was already out. Slowing down to match Prompto’s speed, you sent him a sheepish look. “They don’t work for _me._ You and Gladio are doing great.”

He scratched his nose, dropping his hand as he shrugged. “I guess— I guess what I wanna get at is—” He gave you a side glance, his usual smile nowhere in sight. “If you can date a member of nobility, say you love him in front of _everybody,_ and uh, get his family’s support even though you’re a commoner, then maybe I can, too.” He kicked a rock, and it tumbled down the hill ahead.

Oh. This conversation wasn’t about you at all. Before you could come up with something supportive to say, he kept going.

“It was one thing when you were with Ignis. That _really_ took me by surprise, and it gave me the guts to say something to Gladio.” He did smile then, although it was small. “But things got crazy. And I’m— I’m not you. You keep coming back from the worst, and I’m afraid of even going there.”

You fiddled with the camera to busy your hands because you wanted, very suddenly, to grab his hand, to hug him, to stop him from rambling like this. “You shouldn’t _have_ to, Prompto. My experience wasn’t exactly normal. Getting serious with Gladio doesn’t have to mess up your life.”

“But what if I mess up his?” He stopped, and you had to turn around to face him. “I don’t know anything about myself so how can he even really love me?”

This was taking a serious and unexpected downturn. You’d only been joking, attempting to avoid the subject of Ravus, but Prompto must’ve had so many unspoken thoughts despite how often he kept his mouth working. This felt like it was coming forth without warning, but you had a greater feeling it had been stewing in him for some time.

The trip back to the Verinas Mart was harder than the laborious climb up only because you weren’t quite sure you knew what to say. So you listened, shared a small feast of junk food with him, and convinced him to let you drive to Lestallum. He was more riddled with doubt than you’d realized; even more reason to return to Insomnia, you thought.

—

**_You:_ ** _We’re not dating._

**_You:_ ** _You’re not my boyfriend._

**_Ravus:_ ** _No. I am not._

**_You:_ ** _COOL_

**_You:_ ** _Super cool._

**_You:_ ** _Good to know where we stand._

**_Ravus:_ ** _Yes, it is._

**_You:_ ** _Anyway, today has been exhausting_

**_You:_ ** _But I made $$$_

**_Ravus:_ ** _I am happy to hear of you thriving._

**_You:_ ** _I wouldn’t say that but thanks._

**_You:_ ** _I love you_

**_Ravus:_ ** _x_

Standing in the evening sunlight that washed over Hammerhead, you blinked in the dim light from your phone. How were you supposed to respond to that? He hadn’t said he loved you again since he’d practically announced it in front of all of your friends. His reply was always the little x. You knew it was supposed to be a kiss, but the fact that it was _Ravus_ sending it to you made it extremely weird.

Only because Ravus wasn’t supposed to be _cute_ to you. It was _Ravus._ You stared at the little letter for several minutes, ruminating. It didn’t hurt that he wouldn’t say it again. You knew how difficult it could be to get those three words out in that order. This alternative he’d taken up was something you’d just have to get used to, you supposed.

**_You:_ ** _I deserve a big one. Or double._

**_You:_ ** _I worked so hard today, papa-gâteau!_

Shoving your phone into a pocket, you walked over to Prompto who spoke quietly into his phone. You’d only stopped to store your guns under Cindy’s safekeeping since you’d never get through the Wall with them. And maybe shoot the shit a little bit. The pit stop seemed lonely, Cindy offering to fill up the bike and walking about with nothing mechanical to work on.

“I dunno,” Prompto laughed. “I guess we could stay in and eat candy.” He hummed a little, the smile on his face growing slightly goofy. Oh, the boy was flirting. “Yeah, I’m sure I could find a way to keep you warm.”

“Prompto, let’s go,” you said, smacking the helmet he had in his other hand. “Save your horniness for your birthday.”

He motioned for you to go away, eyes shooting to Cindy with mild embarrassment at how loud you were talking. You rolled your eyes, deciding to give him a few more minutes. Even though it was ridiculous. He had _just_ unloaded all of his new layers of doubt surrounding his relationship, and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t see Gladio literally the next day.

Shuffling around the dusty car lot, you checked your phone again.

**_Ravus:_ ** _xx_

You smiled, wishing he was waiting for you in Insomnia, too.

—

The movie you’d helped work on over the summer, if catering to the whims of a spoiled child actor could be called helping, was holding its premiere on a chilly night at the tail end of October. As a member of the production crew, you’d been invited, and you were special enough to have been given a plus one ticket for a friend.

Initially, you’d invited Prompto, but the premiere fell on his birthday. You’d thought that was a great sign, an opportunity to pretend you were someone important with your best friend at your side, but he’d wanted to spend it with Gladio. His reasons had seemed singular and suggestive until he’d explained his worries. Now you knew he had a lot to work out, and a night of playing fame wasn’t going to help that.

So you’d invited Ignis. Your reasons came in thirds: to hang out with him, to show off your perceived professional growth, and to maybe figure out what was going on in his life that made him look so worn. You’d told him it was a sort of celebration of the two years you’d known each other. Sure, much of it had been spent apart and upset with one another, but it didn’t negate the fact that, two years before on this very day, you’d officially met.

Ignis had accepted your invitation. He’d even seemed excited by the prospect. Which was why you found yourself confused as you stood alone outside the grand theatre.

Okay, you weren’t alone. Press, public relations crew, and mildly famous nobodies crowded the area. The red carpet was only feet away, lined with velvet rope to keep the plebeians out of the way. In reality, you were surrounded on all sides, and damn did your anxiety _feel_ it, so you shouldn’t have felt so alone.

You shifted uncomfortably in your dress, a knock-off of what could almost be considered couture, and let people pass you on their way down the aisle of self-absorption. You checked your phone but found nothing from Ignis. It was fine. Totally cool. You weren’t in a rush, anyway. The movie didn’t start for another half hour.

All you were missing was the reception party, and it wasn’t like you wanted to drink or spend your time pre-movie pretending you were on par with everyone else involved in its creation. Wandering around a party saying hello to people you didn’t even like _while sober_ was the opposite of fun.

Still. Where was Ignis?

A car pulling up to the curb caught your attention, and that of pretty much everyone as lights began to flash and voices picked up in excitement. You pressed back, fighting your curiosity, because you’d arrived early just so you’d _miss_ the celebrity appearances. No one who really mattered would show up early, you’d been told.

There were just enough open spaces between people in the ever-moving crowd that you could make out one of the lead actors walking down the red carpet. Luckily, he seemed to draw much of the crowd away from you as he went.

You touched the silky body of your dress, goosebumps rising along you legs as you settled further into the chill night air. You’d even bought a fancy faux fur thing that you kept the tag on to return the next day. It kept you warm enough even though you were beginning to feel more and more idiotic as the minutes ticked on.

All of the celebrities had arrived by the time security began to rush you along the red carpet yourself. Your excitement was dampened by your solo walk down the aisle, people snapping photos even though they sure as hell didn’t know or recognize you. Unless it was normal to just take pictures of the last person to enter the premiere; it wouldn’t be the first time you were unknowingly the butt of some joke.

In any case, you didn’t stop for anything, and even stumbled a little in your rush when you made one last attempt to check your phone before taking your seat inside.

Nothing, still.

—

**_Ignis:_ ** _Apologies. I’d forgotten a prior engagement._

You tried not to scowl or pout on your way out of the theatre; people were still outside, waiting with anticipation and watching for anyone famous. The least you could do for yourself was not get caught making an ugly face in the background of a picture that would be in a magazine the next day.

Unlike the crowds that had been slowly going in earlier, people were in a serious rush to leave. Distracted with thinking of a reply to Ignis, you moved along with everyone around you. It was rude of him to stand you up, that much was obvious, but you weren’t sure if you were supposed to be this annoyed by it. A prior engagement? He couldn’t even say _why_ he’d miss the movie?

To be fair, it hadn’t been all that great… but he couldn’t have known that.

Plus, this was Ignis. Since when did he just abandon his obligations and promises? You typed out an annoyed message, then erased it. He _was_ that kind of person. He took his obligations seriously. It was likely some Noctis thing that had him bailing on you. Being mad at him for being an important person with extreme responsibility had never been a productive aspect of your friendship with him. Snorting inelegantly because there really was no response to Iggy‘s message that wouldn’t come off as bitchy, you shoved your phone into your bag and looked around.

Almost immediately, you grew alarmed at the hand that pressed firmly against your back. Around you, crewmembers you were vaguely acquainted with began to shuffle into a limo. Oh, no. You struggled to get away from the insistent pull of the others, the hand at your back becoming several hands pushing you forward.

“Hey, wait. I don’t—”

You stumbled into the limo, practically sitting in the lap of some random guy you knew by face but not name.

“Sorry, I’m not—”

“It’s cool,” he laughed, his legs shifting underneath you as the door closed and the car began to move. “It’s a short drive. Just sit tight.”

A short drive to _where,_ exactly?

You climbed out of the limo far too quickly once it stopped, nearly tripping over the hem of your dress as you got to your feet. A gentle hand helped you gain balance, grasping yours before it could land palm first on the sidewalk.

You looked up to a classically handsome face, extremely recognizable by the charming smile that grew longer. The lead actor who arrived before all the others at the premiere grinned down at you.

“Easy,” he said, then let go of your hand to motion an arm toward a set of doors. Beyond them pounded music, a burly bouncer outside watching you with hardened disinterest. You looked from him to the actor, who nodded. “After you.”

This wasn’t particularly what you wanted to do. After parties only spelled trouble for someone trying to stay sober, but the lingering annoyance you had at sitting next to an empty seat with Ignis’ name on it for the entire movie propelled you forward.

Maybe the handsome actor giving you attention had a part to play in it, too, but you weren’t above denial on that front. He placed a hand at your lower back as you went inside and guided you with gentle pressure to a roped off area where absurdly attractive people had congregated with champagne bottles and laughter that somehow rang louder than the bass of the music.

You hadn’t thought such levels of happiness could exist. By the look of the glasses of alcohol and the rows of white powder on the short table in the center of the lounge, it didn’t— not by nature, at least. You avoided sitting down. There was no way you were sticking around. A situation like this would’ve been a dream come true for past you. Now, though, you were out of your depth.

Drinks were passed around, and you accepted a glass of champagne with chagrin. The actor put an arm about your waist before drinking his.

You were extremely flattered. You really were. But you didn’t know a single face, and you just wanted to get out of your uncomfortable dress and complain about how lame Ignis was to anyone who would listen.

“Not into champagne?” The actor asked, his too perfect face too close to your own suddenly.

“Okay, dude, back off.” You stepped out of his loose hold.

He let his hand drop, expression morphing into that sort of sheepish look at a person had when they weren’t really sorry at all. Your rejection amused him. That’s when you realized he was only playing with you. He was on top of the world right now, and you were just a random woman he’d helped out of the production limo that he expected to get lucky with.

You tilted your head back, glass to your lips, and downed the entire thing in one go. You could’ve shown up everyone there if you wanted. Maybe not the drugs but certainly in drinks. But you didn’t. Putting down the glass, you pulled your faux fur tighter around yourself and made for the exit.

As you waited for your ride, the cold regaining its icy hold on you once again, you stood near the stoic bouncer on the busy street and let the champagne sing as it coursed its way through you. It wasn’t enough to even get you tipsy, but you enjoyed the rush of misbehaving. For a few minutes, that was. Then you felt guilt, followed by disappointment, and then your annoyance at Ignis became annoyance at yourself. But you’d only had one drink. You’d stopped there. That had to mean something. Rather than dwell on it, you decided to distract yourself.

**_You:_ ** _It’s rude to flake like that._

Shivering, you drew the coat around you tighter as you waited. Surprisingly, you didn’t have to wait long.

**_Ignis:_ ** _I’m genuinely sorry. I’d made plans with my uncle and completely forgotten them._

Biting your lip, you narrowed your eyes at the message. Ignis didn’t forget things. Then again, Ignis hadn't really been himself recently. It was a subject that was growing harder and harder to avoid. You hadn’t even had the benefit of _out of sight, out of mind_ because messages like this reminded you that something wasn’t quite okay with him even if you weren’t looking at his dark circles and fake smiles every day.

**_You:_ ** _Make it up to me tomorrow? We can have lunch before I leave the city._

**_Ignis:_ ** _I’m afraid not. My schedule is booked for the foreseeable future._

**_You:_ ** _Dude, just ditch a meeting. Nobody will notice_

**_Ignis:_ ** _Everyone will notice._

**_You:_ ** _You’re not that special. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Iggy._

**_Ignis:_ ** _Doesn’t it? What a shame._

**_You:_ ** _We can make a dummy to stand in your place._

**_Ignis:_ ** _Oh? Out of what exactly?_

**_You:_ ** _Stack some potato sacks into your office chair. Put your jacket and glasses on it. Play a recording of your voice saying you’re busy anytime someone walks in_

**_Ignis:_ ** _How is this both the worst and the most thought out idea you’ve had yet?_

You laughed quietly to yourself, startling a little when a car honked as it pulled up to the curb. Putting your phone away, you went to the rude driver with a sigh. Although conversation was finally coming to you both as easily as it used to, your worries for Ignis lingered, suppressed to the deeper recesses of your mind.

—

In Aranea’s shower, you washed away the makeup and everything that held your hair together. The water ran over you until it grew cold, and then you let it run for just a bit longer. You’d only had one drink, but you craved another. A thought crossed your mind, a question of what Aranea might have in her kitchen cupboard. You dressed for the night and forced the question away. She knew you were trying to play it straight and wouldn’t let you prowl through her stuff anyway.

When you meandered into her living room, you found her lounging on her sofa. She nudged at a box on her coffee table with a foot.

“It’s for you. Brought it from my visit to Altissia last week.”

You perked up, grateful for this distraction. Going to the table, you sat on the floor, knees bent underneath you. “I never thought you’d get me something.”

“I didn’t,” she laughed. “It’s from Ravus.”

Perking up even further, you used the scissors she’d placed next to the box to open it. Unassuming, the box was a plain brown, and once opened, the tissue papers inside were of the same bland color scheme. Pulling the paper out of the way, you found inside a— wait, really?

You snorted, picking up an atrocious pubic wig. The packaging was heavy plastic, clear to show off the coeurl print on the fake hair. Turning it over for Aranea to see, you stifled a giggle with your free hand.

“Do I wanna know?” She rose a brow.

“It’s a merkin. For your crotch,” you explained, lowering it with a shake of your head. It was hideous. Where he found such an awful thing was a mystery even to you.

“Kid…” It came out as a near groan, an exasperated sound that made you look at her. She ran a hand up her face, pushing back her bangs and arching both brows high on her forehead. “Why’s he sending you crotch wigs?”

You put the damn thing on the table, shrugging. “Inside joke?” You didn’t really know, but you liked that he’d remembered your random conversation.

The next thing was a box of cookies. You’d never had them before but recognized them as a fancy Altissian brand.

“His favorite cookies,” Aranea said with a witheld laugh. She sat up and took the box from you, examining it. “Okay, no. You’re telling me what’s going on.”

Digging back into the box, you were torn between wanting to tell her to fuck off and spilling your guts about everything. Aranea was, as far as you knew, one of Ravus’ only actual friends. So she had to know more than she was letting on. It was likely she just wanted to hear how your side of your non-relationship with Ravus would compare to what he must’ve told her.

After uncovering another layer of padding and tissue, you pulled out a small vial of bee repellent. Opening it let out a powerful waft of eucalyptus that made you cough. You recapped it, shooting a sheepish look to Aranea as you set it aside. This was a very… odd package.

You squawked a little when she opened the box of cookies, leaving the parcel to reach for the cookies. “Those are mine.”

She held it out of reach, standing and withdrawing a sugar-covered cookie. “Tell me what’s going on with you and prince tightass, and I might consider it.”

You wadded one of the packing papers and hit her with it. “None of your business.”

She bit the cookie, breaking it in half. With a stare down at you, she said nothing and waited.

“We’re friends,” you said, throwing up your hands. “That’s all. Really.”

She ate the other half of the cookie, shaking her head.

You uncapped the vial of bee repellent again and tried to splash it on her, but it appeared to be spill-proof. Huffing out a sigh, you put it down again as she ate another cookie.

“Fine. We like each other. Happy now?” You reached for the box of cookies, and she let you have them this time. Holding the box unnecessarily close, you tried one yourself. It was surprisingly simple and very sweet. You weren’t sure what else you could expect, knowing Ravus’ sweet tooth. Munching on it thoughtfully, you continued the stare with Aranea.

“What?” you asked between bites. “Nothing to say?”

“What do you want me to say, kid?” She sat down again. “Oh, wow, he likes you? How sweet?”

You stared at her flatly, saying nothing as she went on with a flourished wave of her hand.

“Your brattiness melted his cold Tenebraen heart, and I’m happy for you?”

It wasn’t like you needed her approval to love Ravus. It wasn’t like you particularly cared what she thought. But she was the closest thing to an older sibling you had so maybe you were seeking _some_ sort of opinion on your feelings for Ravus. You needed reassurance, in all of the confusion that had happened with Ignis, that you weren’t making another terrible choice that would hurt you down the road. Ravus felt safe to you, but she’d be the one to know if there was any underlying reason to worry.

“What’s wrong with Ravus liking me?” you asked, picking at the cookie. Crumbs began to litter the table.

She smoothed a bit of her fringe behind her ear, hand coming to her chin as she gazed at you carefully. “He’s too old for you.”

“I’ve had older,” you readily countered.

Her mouth twitched with a smile. She knew very well that you’d had older; she’d have to do better than that. “He’s bitchy and distant.”

“I like that about him.”

“He’s high maintenance.”

“Just my type, then.”

“He’s a prince.”

You began on another cookie. “So I’m not good enough?” It didn’t come out defensively. You were more curious as to why this should’ve deterred you. It was funny, considering Prompto had used the very same point in effort to get you to admit to being together.

“No,” she said with a quiet laugh. “You’re _too_ good. You really want to get mixed up in his politics? Being a duchess is a huge deal. Imagine an entire kingdom wanting to know your opinions on everything and rejecting you if they don’t agree. No matter what you do, there will always be people who are against you.”

That was a daunting point, but you snorted a little at the thought. “Bold of you to assume we’d ever get married.”

“Oh, if you’re serious, it’ll happen.”

You narrowed your eyes, not understanding. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

She shrugged, a smirk on her face. “He’ll probably make you wait until marriage to get past his self-imposed chastity belt.”

You blinked at her, processing that bit of information with minor difficulty. His boundaries had been clear, but you hadn’t considered that point. His reasons couldn’t have been religious because, while in training to become the next Oracle, Ravus lived by his own guidelines. He didn’t seek comfort in the gods like his mother always seemed to do. He didn’t alway fast or pray when it was expected.

But, you remembered well from your time there, he’d heal anyone so long as the person requesting it asked him personally. And he’d listen— he’d listen endlessly to someone in pain, though it was rare that anyone ever approached him because he’d do it with a scowl and the most blunt, honest advice offered.

You thought about the way he’d held you in Cape Caem. Of the blush that covered more of his skin than you could’ve known, usually hidden by his robes. Of the unfortunate misunderstanding over his morning boner. He’d wanted you then. He’d struggled to part from you, and what Aranea said now only gave you retroactive guilt at how you’d pressured him. Trying not to think about it too deeply, you shoved another cookie into your mouth.

“I had a feeling something was up when I saw your tattoo,” Aranea spoke up after your silence stretched long. “I didn’t think Ravus was into _anyone_ so I’m still not sure how this could’ve happened.”

You put the cookie box down, dusting your hands of crumbs. “You mean, you haven’t…?”

Before Ravus had first kissed you, you’d always assumed he had a romantic history with Aranea. It made so much sense at the time. He treated her with a friendlier attitude than most were given, and they’d known each other for years. If anyone could handle a man like him, it would’ve been a woman like her, you’d thought. When it became increasingly apparent that Ravus had no experience with intimacy, you’d scrapped the thought entirely. Asking her now would only invite questions you didn’t want to answer.

You returned your attention to the package, not knowing what else you’d find. It’d been such a weird mix of things so far. Pulling out the last of the tissue paper, you paused at what was left inside. A box within the box, geometric font along the side telling you what it held. Breath caught, you lifted the smaller box from the parcel, knocking the now empty one away to appraise the last gift in your unexpected care package.

A camera.

Sleek and black, it was a dense weight in your hands as you lifted it from the box, belying its slim, compact size. Playing with the dials, you turned it on and messed with the settings. You’d looked at this exact camera for weeks. Not out of hope of ever buying it. You’d only thought to get yourself a nice camera after spending so much time as Prompto’s writer or lackey. Never had you thought your occasional grumbling to the prince would amount to anything other than brief catharsis.

It was a nice gift, proof that he’d always been listening. Too bad you couldn’t accept it.

Grabbing your phone, you stood and walked from the room, down Aranea’s hallway and into her bedroom. The phone rang while you picked at things on her dresser.

“I wasn’t expecting a call.” His voice made you smile, a reaction you hadn’t known about until you caught sight of yourself in the mirror above the dresser. You turned around to avoid it, walking past her bed.

“And I wasn’t expecting a package.”

He inhaled softly. “Aranea gave it to you. Good.”

“Why would you get me something so expensive?” You turned on the lamp at her bedside table and sat on her bed.

“I assume you mean the camera.”

“No, the bee repellent,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Ravus, you’re not my _actual_ sugar daddy. You can’t do shit like this.”

He was quiet, and you waited out the stretch of silence by playing with a ribbon on Aranea’s end table.

“Have I offended you?”

You threw the ribbon back onto the table. “No, but I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like the camera?”

“No. I love the camera.” You stood up to start pacing, running a hand down your face. “You’re not _listening,_ Ravus.”

“I am. It’s you who’s making no sense, ma crevette.” His tone was patient, but you could tell he was nearing a sigh. “I was under the impression gifts are an acceptable form of showing affection. Or must I carry the title of boyfriend in order to not upset you with gifts?” The way he said _boyfriend_ sounded like he’d hate nothing more than to be referred to as such.

“No,” you snapped, annoyed although you weren't entirely sure why. “You could be my boyfriend, and I’d feel the same. You can’t just buy me expensive stuff for no reason.”

“It isn’t without reason.” And there it was, his sigh. “Did you not see the card?”

Your brows furrowed, and you left for the living room. Aranea had disappeared, the room empty, but you paid little attention, going to the package and searching for the card. You found it between some crumpled tissue paper. Your name was written in abrupt but elegant script across the front of the envelope.

“Hold on,” you mumbled, a little embarrassed now.

“Unsurprising,” he said quietly, but made no further comment as you opened the envelope and read the card.

_Congratulations on your first big feature. May you use this well in your next project._

You pouted, putting the card down next to the camera.

“Okay, I get it now,” you huffed. “But you still can’t buy me expensive things even if you do have a reason.” You were trying your best not to sound whiny, and you were failing miserably. You had good reasons to not want this kind of gift, but you were also touched by the gesture. It was muddling your mind.

“I’m not allowed to buy you anything nice?” The way he asked was flat and sarcastic as if you were the ridiculous one here.

“Look, I know that you love grand gestures and being ridiculous, but there’s no way I can pay you back for this.” Ire colored your voice, and you looked at the camera awkwardly.

Ravus wasted no time. “What I love is you, and if it upsets you for me to do this, I will stop.”

His direct words caught you off guard. You sat down to idly play with the buttons on the camera. Really, you knew this was partly a pride thing. You did have enough gil to pay him back for the camera, but you were still hoping to move to Altissia eventually. You needed to keep all of your savings for that.

“I love you, too,” you said quietly. Looking at the other items on the table, you smiled. “The merkin you sent is possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“You enjoy terrible things.”

You nodded until you realized he couldn’t see you, then laughed and said, “Yeah, true.”

Ravus hummed a little, a quiet sound as if he were considering something. “I promise not to send you anything more.”

“No, that’s—” Your smile dropped as you sighed. “I appreciate it, papa-gâteau, I really do. I’ll just have to swallow my pride, I guess.”

Another pause, then he said, “I hope you find great use in the camera.”

“I will,” you murmured, looking up as Aranea came back into the room with a drink in hand.

She sat down on the sofa, thankfully saying nothing as she eyed you and the phone at your ear.

You spent the night ignoring her amused looks while you talked to Ravus. You didn’t mention the glass of champagne or the background sense of anxiety you felt over things like chastity, marriage, and what expensive gifts might’ve meant from a man like Ravus.

—

For the first time in your life, Mom’s place didn’t feel like home. A week passed into two as you worked on your resume, added a commission section to your blog, and broke in your new camera. Work in your field was unsurprisingly nonexistent in your hometown where factories or farms ruled the economy. Nobody wanted an experienced videographer except for the wedding photography you had done for someone you vaguely remembered being friends with in primary school.

You passed the time doing nothing and felt no rush to find a stable job. Mom told you every other day that that kind of attitude was poison, but it didn’t encourage you to try harder. The problem wasn’t a lack of interest. It was your location. Honestly, Mom should’ve been grateful you weren’t in such a hurry to be in Altissia already.

It was a wonder that, now that you had the means, your motivation for Altissia was shot. When you looked for jobs there, your mind strayed to Ravus. What if you got a job there just as he was leaving? He’d moved there to be close to you. It would seem like some sort of petty, underhanded thing if you moved there right before he went back home to Tenebrae, right? You knew you were overthinking all of this, and it stemmed from the fact that you didn’t really know what you wanted right now.

Your weeks were measured in conversations. You spoke to Prompto every day, mostly in messages that consisted of nonsense no one else would ever understand. Ravus was also a daily friend, lending his voice even when he sounded exhausted or grumpy. Everyone else was sporadic— Gladio checking in to see when you’d be in the city again and Luna suggesting more outings together.

Ignis only ever called late at night.

That’s how you found yourself every other evening, sitting in your childhood bedroom and shooting the shit with him. Occasionally you’d make soft attempts at getting more information about his relationship without coming off as a wierd, jealous ex. You sat at your cluttered desk, scrolling through a pointless personality quiz with your phone at your ear, doing just that.

“The smell of a chocobo never really leaves a person,” Ignis said. A quiet sigh followed, a sound you were used to.

“Helped her out today?”

He hummed an affirmation. “It’s not unsatisfying, but I would rather spend my free time on less arduous tasks.”

“I’ll trade you,” you jokingly suggested. “I love chocobos, and the smell isn’t that bad.” You still spent more than a reasonable amount of time in the barn behind Mom’s house just to catch the lingering odor of Bokeh from the weathered wood. It was strange, but it cheered you up sometimes.

“I don’t know that you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice lowering to a near whisper. You suspected he did this when his girlfriend was near, which only fed your worry for him.

After weeks of this, you finally felt something in you snap.

“She’s pretty insistent on having you with her at all times, huh?” You drummed your fingers on your desk. “Don’t you control your own free time?”

There was a brief shuffling on the line, the muffled sound of a door closing. Then he said, just a bit louder, “There’s so little of it as it is. I suppose she does tend to monopolize it.”

Because she was way too needy to be with someone as busy as Ignis, you thought. Biting back any accusations, you said, “Partners are like that, but you’re still your own person, Iggy.”

“I’m aware.”

You pushed a marker across your desk, flicking the cap of it with your index finger. “I just remember how shitty and isolated I felt when I was with my first real boyfriend, and you remember how _that_ ended.”

He took a breath, seeming to think for a moment. “Are you suggesting I’m being abused?” he asked, sounding amused suddenly. “From where is this concern coming?”

You knocked the marker off your desk with a sigh. Were you being that obvious? If that was the case, there was no point in hiding it anymore.

“I’m worried, dude,” you said. “You look like shit every time I see you. Luna says you overwork yourself _more_ than you used to, and you only ever call me at—” You looked at the time on your computer. “Midnight.”

He chuckled, and you hated it. What about this could possibly be funny? People who were in unhealthy relationships were usually defensive, and you fully expected him to be dismissive or annoyed by your prying. You had no idea what to do with his amusement.

“I appreciate that you care,” he said, his voice warm. “As you said, it’s getting late. I should go.”

You ground your teeth, letting out a sigh through your nose. “I just— I’m here for you, okay?”

“I know.” His voice was still warm, quiet this time but not in the same secretive way it usually became when his partner was around.

When the call disconnected, you threw your phone across the room in frustration. It bounced off your bed and hit the floor with a muted _thud._ Burying your face in your hands, you groaned. The signs were glaringly obvious to you that his relationship was hurting him. But you knew, from experience, that denial and willful ignorance could be powerful things.

You went downstairs to chew through your feelings with a midnight snack. Upon your return, you found your phone ringing from its place on your rug. Maybe Ignis was calling back to confide in you. It was unlikely your conversation could’ve drawn that out of him, given how entertained he’d been before hanging up. But people processed things differently so you picked up your phone with a bit of hope. Instead, Ravus’ name was large along the screen. You felt the hope dissipate, overcome with warmth instead.

“Hey,” you answered. “You never call this late. I didn’t think I was gonna hear from you.”

“The village I visited today was larger than anticipated. I was made to personally visit the elderly who were unable to leave their homes.”

You flopped onto your bed. “That’s really sweet of you, papa-gâteau. You did a great thing for them.”

He made a soft grunting sound as if he didn’t quite agree, and you had to fight a laugh. So it was a grumpy call; that was fine. You were glad he cared enough to make the effort. No one had ever been this unwavering in their promised time spent on you. He’d said he’d call more, and he did.

“I’m happy to hear your voice,” he said.

You stretched along your bed, letting the laugh escape because of how _great_ it felt to talk to him, to be the person he chose to say this kind of thing to. “It’s nice to hear yours, too.”

“Tell me of your day.”

Chewing on your lip, you tried and failed to name a truly productive or interesting thing you’d done. “It was boring.”

Riveting conversation, you mocked yourself internally. Before you could dredge up something to talk about, Ravus asked, “Have you spoken to Luna?”

“Not today.” You rolled over, looking at the ceiling as you considered your next words. “I talked to Ignis earlier.”

Silence sat on the line, not heavy but stark. Then he let out a quiet breath. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You were hedging the obvious dislike Ravus had for the other man, knowing he’d hear you out because that’s just what Ravus did. “I brought up his terrible relationship. Probably not in the smoothest way. I feel kinda bad, but I don’t think I can stand it much longer. He’s miserable.”

Another silence, and this one was longer. It forced you to reconsider your shift in topic. Ravus was tired and likely wouldn’t give a damn about this. Again, though, he spoke before you could.

“While I understand you have regained a friendship with him,” Ravus said, keeping his tone even. “I fail to see how this is your problem to solve.”

Frowning, you closed your eyes. “You saw how bad he looked and the way she treated him in Cape Caem. I dunno what she’s doing, but he’s just _letting_ her walk all over him. _Ignis._ He doesn’t just do that.”

“Have you considered that he may be alright? It could be a number of things affecting him, and not a single one of them involve you.”

You opened your eyes, searching blank space as the words rushed out of you. “Well, _somebody_ has to care. All Gladio does is shit on her because he hopes she’ll leave, and everyone else acts like it’s not happening.”

Ravus took a deep breath, and you could picture it, the way his eyes closed, his silver brows pinching as he frowned. When he let it go, he said, “What exactly do you think is happening, ma crevette?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” you admitted. “And that’s why I’m worried.”

You heard the hushed _chuff_ of him probably throwing himself into his own bed. His tired state began to leak into his tone. “I’d rather not spend our evening on this subject so I will offer one piece of advice, and I expect you to drop it. Understood?”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Sure.” It was a fair request even if he was trying to make it sound like a command. His tendency to word things that way had to be a result of his princely upbringing. Or maybe he was just an ass.

“Unfortunate relationship or not, if you respect Scientia, you must respect his chosen partner as well. Everything he does, including his relationship, is his personal decision to make, not yours.”

Ravus… had a point. You didn’t like it, but you acknowledged it. You rolled onto your side, ready to move onto a better subject, yourself. “So, papa-gâteau, what are you wearing?”

“My underclothes,” he said plainly, his usual unamused answer.

You smiled, falling into your usual spiel of describing what you were wearing— all lies about lacy, sheer lingerie that would have him threatening to hang up within the next five minutes. He’d stay on the phone, though, for an hour more just to hear you talk about _anything._

You knew he would because he always did, and you loved him for it.

—

Mouth sticky with the remnants of a candy cane you’d been working on since morning, you licked your lips as you opened the front door for your friends. It had been Luna’s idea to visit you for the winter holiday rather than have you join them in the Citadel.

She came in first, a wrapped gift in her hand that made you a little nervous. It would never get easier to find things to gift her, and you held a tiny fear that you’d never be able to give her a present as nice as the ones she gave you. Close behind was Noctis, followed by Gladio and Prompto. As the latter two crushed you in a hug, you saw over their shoulders that Ignis was coming up the walkway.

“You made it,” you said, smiling through a grunt at Gladio’s extreme hugging power.

Ignis nodded, returning the smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss a gathering at your lovely mother’s place.”

You snorted as Gladio let you go, and Mom, apparently already impatient with your hostess skills, ushered everyone into the living room, pointing to where the gifts could be placed. She was for sure going to embarrass you throughout this. She’d spent the day before cooking an abundance of food, and already, she’d rolled out the “good dishes” that normally sat on display in a windowed cupboard. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you’d seen Noctis eat a cold, stale taco directly out of your fridge once.

The kitchen quickly became crowded as hot cocoa was made and cookies were decorated. You knocked elbows with Ignis after he rolled up his sleeves and accepted a pastry piping bag from Mom.

“No girlfriend?” You were past being subtle. He already knew how you felt, and while you acknowledged that Ravus was right about respecting your friends and their choices, that didn’t mean you had to pretend you liked her.

A light smirk played across his face. “I didn’t think she’d be very interested in joining me at my ex-lover’s family home.”

It was a little weird for him to say it like that, however true it was. You quickly looked at Mom to make sure she wasn’t watching your conversation. Luckily, she was too busy fawning over Luna.

“You look good,” you appraised, sending him a side glance. He looked better than he had in a long time, at least. You gave your gingerbread man a sweater with blue icing, smiling to yourself at the thought that Ignis was, at the very least, getting more sleep if the smaller bags under his eyes were anything to go by.

“As do you,” he said, brushing his own elbow against yours in return for your earlier jab. “Domesticity suits you well.”

You scoffed, intercepting his careful work and squeezing a fat lump of icing onto his unfinished cookie. “It looks better on you. I’m a career woman, thank you very much.” That’s what you told yourself even though you hadn’t made a real effort to start your career in months.

“Yet you remain here.” He picked up a butter knife, spreading your uninvited icing over his cookie smoothly, totally unbothered by it. “If you’re not going to Altissia, why not return to Insomnia?”

“And leave my poor mom here to fend for herself?” You pointed at her, and she paused in whatever she was showing Noctis to give you a curious glance.

When you waved her off, she smiled and gazed between you and Ignis. Oh, no. You needed to divert Iggy’s attention before she began on one of her rare but always annoying _whatever happened with you and that nice young man?_ stints. Those usually became _Ravus is a prince but Ignis would keep you closer to home_ rants she gave you. It wasn’t serious. Not entirely. She’d told you to choose a long time ago, and you had. You’d chosen yourself.

“Altissia isn’t ready for me,” you said, looking at Ignis. “And Insomnia is close enough for me to visit.”

“But you never do,” Gladio spoke up, walking in from the dining room. Gods, he had— there were crumbs in the beginnings of a beard he was growing.

You snickered at the sight, looking down at your cookie to keep from outright laughing. You were happy they’d come.

—

After cookies and dinner came a word game that everyone seemed intent on playing. Everyone but you and Noctis, that was. So, of course, it was unanimously decided that you were on a team with one another. Ignis, being the only other one who could fully communicate with Mom, formed a team with her. The afternoon became evening between Noctis making up words that definitely didn’t exist, Ignis being more competitive than usual, and Gladio repeatedly calling Prompto and Luna his “Lucky Blonds” because they were _somehow_ winning.

When Mom stopped signing, communicating with only Ignis by way of writing into a notebook you couldn’t see, you grew uncomfortable. Her pestering over the men in your life _was_ just a joke, right? He’d look at her writing and nod or smile, each time making your curiosity grow.

Once the game was over, you went to the kitchen with Mom, intent on making hot cocoa for whoever wanted it. Plus, you felt it was time to eat the cookies you’d masterfully decorated.

While you filled orders from Prompto and Noctis, delving out cocoa into large mugs, you watched as Mom refilled Ignis’ cup of tea. You arranged cookies on a large plate and paused when you looked up to see Mom add whiskey to their teas with a gentle stir.

“Really?” You almost laughed. “Hot toddies? You know he has to drive them back to the city tonight.”

She patted your arm in a comforting gesture that did make you laugh a little.

_He’s been drinking with me since dinner,_ she signed. _Someone else will drive._

She was acting shockingly casual about this. You thought back to the _several_ cups of tea you’d seen him drink throughout the game after dinner. Your amusement waned, and you frowned at Mom. She couldn’t have any clue what she was enabling, especially since she knew nothing of your own problem, but it irked you all the same.

Ravus’ voice flitted through your mind. _Everything he does is his decision to make, not yours._

Sighing, you held that thought close and rather precariously carried the cookies and hot cocoa from the kitchen to the living room. Ignis passed you on the way, his smile warm and eyes friendly. You returned the look, considering as you put the things down for the others that you might’ve been worrying over nothing. Ignis wasn’t without agency. He was one of the smartest people you knew. You should just take Ravus’ advice and let it go, you told yourself.

On your way back to the kitchen to get your own hot cocoa, you nearly ran into Ignis in the archway. His quick reflexes kept his hot toddy from spilling on you, surprise marking his face in parted lips and an arched brow. From the dining room, Prompto began to playfully jeer at you.

“Kiss!” He snickered. “You gotta!”

You looked over your shoulder at your friend. Next to him, Noctis nodded, a smile on his own face. “What.”

“Mistletoe, dude!” Prompto really didn’t need to be yelling, but it had the effect on you he must’ve wanted because he snickered again.

Looking at Ignis, you let your frown grow. Then your eyes went upward, and you realized what was happening. When had Mom put mistletoe up?

Ignis cleared his throat, regaining your attention. You blinked at him, shaking your head. “We don’t actually have to.”

The smile on his face grew, revealing his perfect teeth. “Come now. Where’s the fun in that?”

Not expecting that response, you were further surprised when he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your mouth. You could smell the whiskey on him as he drew back, a blush dusting his cheeks. He cleared his throat again before going around you, placating the continued hassling that Prompto and Noctis threw your way.

You went to the kitchen, ignoring Mom’s look of interest and pointing at the teacup in her hands. “Can I have some?”

She smiled, handing you her cup. Taking a sip of it, you felt a sick feeling begin to settle over you. It pulled at your stomach, twisting it into knots. The whiskey and tea calmed your sudden nerves only slightly so you took another gulp. The burn of the hot tea scalded your tongue when you tried to drink too quickly. You hissed, drawn from your thoughts.

Which was a good thing, really, because you were considering something now that spelled nothing but trouble. It left too much room for misunderstanding, but, with the taste of Ignis still on your lips, you really needed to be sure.

—

Prompto took over your fancy camera, snapping photos of everything in the house while you went through three hot toddies in less than twenty minutes. When he took a succession of shots of Luna showing off the scarf you’d made her, you made a mental note to send a few to Ravus. You wished he was here. Maybe if you’d been caught under the mistletoe with _him_ instead, you wouldn’t have these curious, unwanted thoughts hanging around in your mind. If Ravus was here, he would’ve told you it was a bad idea. Because it was, and you knew it.

That didn’t stop you from taking Ignis to the privacy of the guest room while everyone seemed preoccupied. It felt much less daunting that way. Less personal than if you’d taken him upstairs to your bedroom.

He looked about the space as you closed the door and locked it behind you. Turning around to face you, he took on one of the softest looks. “I remember sleeping in here on my first visit. I’d fallen in love with you that day.”

Damn. He must’ve been hitting the whiskey as hard as you were, just spilling out his thoughts so openly. That _really_ should’ve stopped you.

“I’m sorry, Iggy,” you said, stepping toward him quickly. You had to know. You had to be completely certain.

Gripping one of his suspenders, you jerked him toward you, drawing him down for a hard kiss. His hands touched your sides, gently at first until he was grabbing, pulling you to him as he leaned into you. His mouth was warm and exactly as you remembered it. The whiskey was strong on his lips, and you deepened the kiss for a greater taste. You reveled in that moment, enjoying two things that weren’t good for you.

Your mind raced, the buzzing thoughts from before becoming all new from this horrid idea. Horrid, but it worked. You pulled away from him, the sick feeling in your stomach intensifying because here it was, the part where Ignis misunderstood —within total reason— your intentions in kissing him.

But rather than upset, he appeared confused. Eyes wandering your face, hands still in the air where he’d been holding you, he let out a quick breath.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I just needed to figure something out. I know you have a girlfriend. It was—”

Suddenly he was nodding, and he rose a hand to quiet you. “It’s alright. I understand.”

“Do you?” Eyes searching his face, you took note of the soft smile that had returned and the slight flush of his cheeks from the alcohol. This had to be one of the worst things you’d ever done to a friend. You’d taken advantage of him and risked your finally stable friendship to determine something you’d already known to be true.

You’d felt nothing. Not when he’d kissed you under the mistletoe, and not now. He could’ve been anyone. You could honestly say you didn’t want to kiss him again, and while liberating, it made your heart ache. You’d thought, even knowing you were over him, that the spark would remain. That things would be oh-so-difficult at times, but you’d endure it for his friendship. But as Ignis looked away, running fingers through his hair, all you felt was your stomach sinking into a pit.

He’d said he understood, and the awkward way he avoided your gaze told you he just might. Maybe he’d been thinking similar things and was now coming to parallel realizations about you.

You wiped at your wet, chapped lips with the back of your hand and cleared your throat, but he spoke first, meeting your eyes.

“Given current circumstances,” he said. “It may be best to not speak of this.”

You nodded quickly. Okay, perfect. So you were on the same page after all. He wasn’t pushing you away in disgust so he couldn’t think you wanted him back. If you weren’t slowly spiralling into a mental hell over what you’d just done, you would’ve been relieved.

You moved out of the way when he walked around you and left. Crossing the room, you sat on the bed and stared at a painting Mom had put up on one of the walls. The alcohol had numbed your senses in all ways but the one you wished it would most. Throwing yourself back, you draped an arm over your face.

Time for a small pity party, you told yourself, sniffling into the long sleeve of your sweater. Pity party, and then you’d go back to the actual party. Thoughts overwhelmed your mind, most of which being reasons why you were a bad person. You knew enough to recognize what you were doing to yourself, but felt powerless to stop it.

—

You skipped the New Year’s Eve ball in favor of laying around Mom’s and pouring through the notebook of poetry and thoughts Ignis had written about you throughout your relationship. Nothing but senseless drama ever happened at those functions, anyway. You’d much rather emotionally self flagellate for hours, and avoid contact with people.

Luna’s third message of the day went ignored as you read through one of your favorite parts of the notebook. When Ignis had been unsure of you, right before admitting to himself that he was in love. Now the notebook was outdated. Ignis had gotten over you while you were apart. The long distance thing not working last time was exactly why you couldn’t do it with Ravus. He was probably getting over you at this very moment, and you’d deserve it.

Luna’s face lit up your phone with a call, and that, too, went ignored. You’d done well to circumvent her insistent behavior regarding your relationship with Ravus. She’d calmed considerably on the subject since her birthday vacation, but you suspected her excitement had never changed. She was just good at keeping it at bay.

The last thing you wanted was that kind of pressure; you had enough of it as it was. Mom wanting you to start your career, your friends wanting you to move back into the Crown City, and the pressure you put on yourself to not fuck up. The only one who didn’t pressure you in some way was Ravus.

You closed the notebook and put it on your bedside table. It was an important part of your past, but you needed to stop dwelling on it. Stretching out, you tried to get some rest, not feeling up to moving for the rest of the evening. When you turned off the lamp by the bed, your room fell into darkness.

It lasted all of fifteen minutes, most of it spent with you gazing up toward the ceiling, eyes fixed blankly on the pitch black above. Your phone lit up, ruining your deep ennui. Scowling, you picked it up from where you’d left it on the edge of your bed and answered the call.

“Luna, I fucking said I wasn’t going so—”

“Is that the way you speak to your future queen?” Ravus’ voice was taut.

You blinked, falling back into bed. Ravus hadn't been an exception to your avoidance for the past week. It was easier to start cutting ties now to save yourself from heartbreak later. You were tired of repeating past mistakes.

Ravus didn’t wait for an answer. “You’ve been ignoring everyone. Why?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Honesty was the way of your friendship, and if it was going to end anyway, you didn’t see any reason to change that.

“I kissed Ignis.” It was quick, out before you could think about it. “Twice. I got drunk and kissed Ignis.”

Ravus let out a quiet breath. “I’ve been told of the mistletoe incident. Luna said you appeared uncomfortable. You shouldn’t feel bad for following a tradition, however asinine.”

Was he just going to gloss over the drunk part?

He spoke again before you could say anything. “I suspected you’d relapsed when she told me you locked yourself in a room at your party.” Apparently he couldn’t be surprised by your failures anymore. He sighed. “You needn’t cut me out of your life every time you hit a snag.”

You scoffed. This wasn’t a small thing. This felt immense, a weight on your chest that you couldn’t get off. You were afraid. For your future, both with or without him. Didn’t he notice, in all of his wisdom, your confusion and fear?

“I was doing us both a favor, Ravus,” you said. He would change his tune when he let you admit the full truth. “I got drunk, kissed Ignis, and took him to a bedroom just in case I wanted to do more.”

“Did you?”

“No, but that’s not the point.” You closed your eyes tightly, a hand rubbing down your face. “I’m getting worse instead of better. I came on to someone who’s already in a relationship. I don’t _do_ that kinda thing.”

You heard background chatter from his end of the call. It was unusual. He only ever called when he was alone in his room at the end of his day. It _was_ rather early to hear from him, you realized.

“You can’t take the entirety of the blame,” Ravus said, sounding immensely impatient suddenly. “I’m assuming he didn’t put a stop to your advances. Unsurprising that he would be untrue to his current partner when he’d done the same to you.”

“Untrue?”

The background noise from his end quieted finally. “Do you not remember the day we met? You told me of him being unfaithful to you.”

You thought back to that time, but it was a muddled disaster of thoughts and emotions. What _hadn’t_ you told him back then? You’d felt like he was trustworthy, though not very likable, from the moment you met him. “It was a misunderstanding. Ignis never cheated on me.”

Another sigh from Ravus, this one longer but quieter. “Always with the misunderstandings. You are exhausting, ma crevette.”

This coming from a man who communed with the gods and healed people on a daily basis was like a slap to the face. You ground your teeth, hating this entire conversation. “Is that why you don’t care that I kissed Ignis? Because you’re tired and don’t want me anymore?”

He made an irritated noise. “What are you hoping for me to say? That I’m angry? I am, but I won’t ask you to put your life on hold for me, or to stop wanting intimacy.” You opened your mouth, but he continued before you could argue. “Of course I want you. All to myself, preferably. I’d go so far as to say I need you. But I know you’ll always follow your own path. I hope, perhaps selfishly, that it will someday lead you to me.”

You were stunned into silence. All of your assertions that he wasn’t your boyfriend, and you realized you’d been waiting for him to say _yes, yes I am_ when he never would. He was going to make you do all of the leg work because he’d already done his big thing. He’d moved to Altissia for you, but you couldn’t gather the courage to even call him your boyfriend.

In your week of depressed thoughts, you hadn’t cried. Now you felt tears well in your eyes.

“I’m gonna go,” you murmured. “I love you.”

You expected no answer, either out of pettiness or just a change in how he felt. But he surprised you with a softer tone.

“I love you. Do try to be good this year.”

You huffed out a small laugh, the tears falling down your temples as you stared up at the ceiling. “No promises.”

—

Gazing at your resume on the screen, you felt wiped out. This was the eighteenth time you’d reworked it just that day. Job hunting was relentlessly boring. Scrolling through your work history, you looked at the Producer’s name. He was your biggest reference, and you hoped he’d been telling potential employers good things about you. He’d said he would, but who the hell knew what that man considered _good things._ You could see him just as easily talking shit just so you’d have nowhere else to turn since he’d seem so keen to keep you on his payroll.

You blinked, that train of thought giving you an idea. Your conversation with Ravus had jumpstarted your motivation to move forward with your life. Through extreme effort, you’d already had several interviews via phone and video call. They all seemed promising, but this… this would’ve been a guarantee, if you were convincing enough.

As you sent an email to the Producer, you heard a knock at your bedroom door. It was weird because Mom never knocked since she had no way of hearing your answer. She just tried the handle, and if it was locked, left you alone or knocked until you came out.

“Come in,” you called, turning away from your desk to face the door.

It creaked as it opened, Prompto stepping in with wide eyes. “Hey.”

Guilt, something that had already been building up in you since the holiday gathering, began to eat at you. He was just another on the list of people who hadn’t heard from you in almost two weeks now. You got up from your chair and crossed the room. Wrapping him in a hug, you didn’t say anything.

He pulled you close, his chin on your shoulder. “Wanna talk?”

You didn’t really but knew it would be better if you did. Pulling back from him, you sat together on your little bed, cross legged, knee to knee.

He pulled something from his jacket, a crinkled envelope covered in stamps and messy handwriting. “My brother sent a letter. It’s, uh, interesting. I wanted to show you.”

Still weird to hear him say “my brother” even after all these months. You took the envelope hesitantly, surprised that he wanted to share something so personal. “Did he finally tell you anything about your family?”

“Kinda.” He nodded for you to open it.

Inside was the letter and a photo. Curious, you looked at the picture rather than read the personal letter. That seemed to be what Prompto wanted. He leaned forward to look at it as if he hadn’t seen it before, blue eyes flicking from the picture to your face.

It was an old polaroid of a man holding two babies, one in each arm. He looked exactly like Prompto save for the closer shave of his hair. His smile was small and his eyes seemed hollow, unlike the large grins and bright eyes you recognized in your best friend.

“Is that—”

“My dad,” he interrupted in a rush. “He told me about our dad in the letter. Nothing about our mom. He says he has no idea who she is, but we look just like, um, yeah.”

They did look just like him. He wore a doctor’s coat, the yellowed picture a bit too faded to make out the name embroidered on the chest. You looked up at him, sliding the picture back into the envelope.

“What’s he like?”

Prompto shrugged and took the envelope from you to put back into his coat pocket. His expression was a quiet sort of thoughtful. “I dunno. He’s a doctor or a scientist. Or both? I looked up his name, Besithia, but nothing comes up. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

You grabbed his hand to comfort him. This was _something,_ at least. A start. You squeezed his hand and felt something cold and hard in your grip. Letting go, you noticed a band on his finger. Making a grab for his hand with both of yours, you pulled it closer to your face, then looked up at him. “Dude.”

He scratched his neck with his free hand, his face growing red. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit.” You touched the predatory bird inscribed along the side of it, twisting around the band both on the inner and outer edges. It was beautiful. “Wow.”

He snickered at your lack of actual sentences. “I called, but you didn’t answer.”

The guilt swelled, and you let go of his hand with an apologetic look. “Sorry I’ve been distant.”

With a shrug, he leaned back, both hands on the bed behind him. “I’m sure you’ve got your reasons. And I’m here to hear ‘em. So spill.”

It was your turn to shrug. You still weren’t up for talking about your problems, especially not with all of his exciting news. “Same old shit.”

He looked around your room idly, then met your eyes. “If you run off to Tenebrae again, let me know this time, okay?”

You startled, blinking at him. “I can’t just go to Tenebrae.”

“Why not?” He righted himself, his fingers tapping against a knee. His ring shone in the light from your window. “You did it once already.”

“Aranea said something,” you blurted, the words coming out without thinking. “About Ravus wanting marriage and being a duchess. It kinda freaked me out.”

Prompto laughed, light but sudden enough that you jumped. He knocked your arm with the back of his hand. “Dude, you’re thinking way too far ahead.”

“Am I?” You rose a brow, wishing he’d take it more seriously. “He’s not into sex before marriage, and I don’t know if I want to get married _ever_.”

He laughed harder, closing his eyes and bending forward a little. “Really? That’s what you’re so messed up over?” He leaned on you, laughter shaking his shoulders. You sat there, sending the universe a flat look. Some best friend _he_ was to laugh at your misery.

When he sat up again, his smile was wide. “Just— I dunno, consider him your greatest challenge.”

A melodic sound chimed from your computer, and you shoved off the bed to check it. “Well, smartass,” you said, sitting at your desk. “I’m getting past that. Mostly.”

He came up behind you, leaning down with a hand on your desk. “So you _are_ thinking about Tenebrae. It’s about time.”

The Producer had replied to you pretty quickly. _Of course_ he would introduce you to people of the industry in Tenebrae. He absolutely _adored_ you. In fact, there was a job he could guarantee you beginning in March, if you were willing to wait. That was the gist of the email, at least.

“Looks like you’re out of excuses, duchess,” Prompto laughed as he stepped away, already prepared to dodge the slap that you aimed toward him. “Now I’m gonna be the odd commoner out.”

You jumped up from your chair to go after him, laughing despite your annoyance. He was such a hypocrite, beginning a courtship with one of the biggest noble houses in Lucis, yet making fun of you over this. You weren’t even dating Ravus, but you hoped to change that soon. You could wait until March. That would give you time to hunt for apartments, anyway.

If you were going to lose all sense, it felt right to maintain your independence.

—

Prompto stayed for dinner, helping you set the table while mom cooked. You’d finally unloaded about your kiss with Ignis. He didn’t seem all that surprised.

“Hey, you were drunk,” he said, rolling a casual shrug over his shoulders. “It happens.”

“I’m just glad Ignis doesn’t hate me for it,” you said with a sigh. You hadn’t spoken to him since they had all left after the gathering so you were just guessing that was the case.

Prompto made a weird face, confusion and something else you couldn’t read. “Nah, he was too busy with all the pregnancy stuff.”

The fork you were about to place down clattered onto the plate. “The what now?”

He paused in his task, looking at you from across the table. “On my birthday, Iggy’s girlfriend told him she was pregnant. That’s why he couldn’t make your thing, remember?”

No, you didn’t. How could you remember something you’d never been told? You fixed the fork, the last of just three on the table. “He lied to me.”

“Oh, no.” Prompto shook his head, folding a colorful cloth napkin down. It was nice of him to play along with the whims of Mom and her formalities over having guests at dinner. “ _She_ lied. Found out a few days ago that there was no baby. Apparently, they’re in a big fight right now.”

You digested this, although it was hard. While this confirmed your suspicion that she wasn’t good for Ignis, you hated knowing that he’d lied to you about it. Were you not actually friends like you’d thought? No wonder he’d been so unreceptive to your worries during your phone calls.

Covering your face with your hands, you sighed heavily. You were done trying. Ignis could help himself. He clearly didn’t want yours, and after what happened at the party, you weren’t sure you had anything to offer him, anyway, since you couldn’t seem to take care of yourself as it was.

—

Entering the Citadel after months in the wild and then the countryside was odd, to say the least. The day was sunnier than usual for winter, the air crisp and chill. You looked your best, well prepared for the photo for your new passport. You’d finally talked to Luna, told her your plans and a message you’d wanted to relay to her mother. She’d promised to make sure you could get your passport expedited, just so you’d have them on hand when March rolled around.

Of course, this being Luna, who had a strange but endearing penchant for wanting to be your pal, you had to meet with her at an upscale spa for a day of pampering. Then you’d been taken off by Prompto and Gladio after parting ways with her. You’d sat between them for an action movie that had a terrible plot but amazing special effects. It had been, all in all, a perfect day.

Now, as February approached, you were gearing up for the shortest —but it truly felt like the longest— month of the year. You had a job lined up, a small apartment in Tenebrae’s city waiting for you, and an Oracle’s blessing to approach her son. Maybe you were going a little far on that last one, but you didn’t want to show up at the manor only to be turned away because you were common. Ravus had taught you to cover all of your bases when pursuing the person you wanted. Once you had your paperwork in order, all you’d have to do was wait.

The Consular Affairs department was packed, people waiting in lines and sitting in chairs throughout the office. You were given a number, told to wait in one line, then another. You’d hoped to see Ignis since he hadn’t had time to hang out with you like the others had. As you were moved to yet another line, you checked your phone for a reply.

**_Ravus:_ ** _I wish you were by my side._

Unexpected but not unwelcome. You smiled, typing a response that might’ve been too honest. But honesty was the key to your relationship so you were just going for it.

**_You:_ ** _I wish you were my boyfriend._

By the time you left that department for one of the long corridors, you had replies from several people waiting, but Ravus’ felt the most pressing.

**_Ravus:_ ** _I don’t._

You frowned at it, checking the rest of the messages while you mulled over the hurtful words. Ignis was free for half an hour. Finally. Spending time with him anymore was like pulling teeth. After learning that he wasn’t actually mad at you, that he’d lied, and that your friendship wasn’t quite as solid as you’d thought, you made it a point to no longer butt into his relationship. All friendly gestures from now on with zero hidden intentions of breaking up his relationship, however horrible it was.

Making your way to Ignis’ office, you reread the message from Ravus. Did he even realize how contradictory that was to his previous text?

**_You:_ ** _That’s too bad. I think you’re my boyfriend._

**_Ravus:_ ** _You are not asking me to be your partner over a text message._

The reply had come before you could even lock your phone. It made you snort as you stepped into an elevator.

**_You:_ ** _Should I call?_

**_Ravus:_ ** _Don’t think for a moment that I will accept._

**_You:_ ** _So you don’t want to date me?_

**_You:_ ** _You’re the one being confusing now, papa._

**_Ravus:_ ** _I can’t be there for you as I should with this distance._

**_You:_ ** _Don’t go moving countries for me again._

**_Ravus:_ ** _If you were to ask, I would._

**_You:_ ** _Cool it, hot lips. I love you._

**_You:_** _No more dramatic stuff, okay?_

**_Ravus:_ ** _No promises. x_

—

Sunlight warmed your skin as you drank coffee with Ignis in his office. It was his lunch break, but he claimed not to have much of an appetite anymore. The dark circles under his eyes had returned, but the smile on his face was real, a flash of teeth between drinks of Ebony.

“Our friends are throwing a small celebration for my birthday next week,” he said, eyes mapping over every feature of your face. You hoped you hadn’t done your makeup badly. “I hope you’ll return to the city to be there.”

“Dude, of course.” You’d already finished your coffee, but held the cup anyway so he wouldn’t get up to offer you more. “I’m sure I can spare one day of my precious country life to entertain you bigshot city folk.” You tried a hand at Cindy’s accent toward the end, but it fell flat.

The smile on Ignis’ face grew, and though you weren’t sure about where you stood with him, you were glad to see he was getting better in _some_ way. It had occurred to you that he might’ve been looking forward to being a father, and all of your phone calls discouraging his relationship hadn’t exactly helped your cause all this time. Which was fine.

Ignis was, officially, not your problem anymore.

—

“I really miss you,” you said upon answering the phone. Ravus usually rolled with whatever you had to say, and you usually said what was most prevalent on your mind. Your plan to move to Tenebrae was a surprise for him— your own grand gesture to prove that you could be just as absurd, if not moreso.

Ravus had met his match in you. He just didn’t know it yet.

“A woman offered to…” Ravus cleared his throat. “She offered to pleasure me with her mouth for healing her father.”

You bit down on your lip, not out of your usual nervousness but to fight a laugh. “What?”

He made a disgruntled sound. “I was propositioned today.”

“By a random woman?”

“Yes.”

You bit your lip for the original reason, your nerves working against you as usual. “Did you take her up on the offer?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, his tone curt. “In what way would I enjoy such an encounter?”

You laughed a little, your slight nerves disappearing. “To feel someone’s attention on your dick?”

“I don’t wish for anyone but you.”

That made you stall. He was just going right out there and saying it. You felt your face warm. Trying not to think about how he’d pretty much just admitted he’d like _you_ to go down on him, you asked, “Does this happen a lot?”

He seemed to think on it for a moment. “Never in Accordo, but now that I’m home, it occurs nearly every time a young woman is witness to my work.”

You tried to imagine it. The only time you’d seen him heal was when you’d jumped off the cliff near Caem, and you didn’t remember becoming instantly horny from it. “Maybe they need sexual healing, papa-gâteau.”

He let out a quick breath, an almost scoff. “They may find that elsewhere. I’m not—”

You rolled your eyes, laughing again. “Your body is a temple and no one can ruin it, yeah yeah.”

“That’s not the case at all,” he said, tone suddenly sharper. “Although our arrangement is undefined, I am devoted to you. I want you to know that.”

Stalled again, this time harder than before, and you flushed a deeper red. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“But you don’t even know when you’ll see me again.”

“Is that meant to change how I feel for you?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Don’t you get confused and worried? Long distance things wreck me. You’ve got women offering to suck you off. It’s not really a confidence booster.”

His tone changed, softer now. “I’d never consider it. My body is a temple, as you say.”

You snorted, your worries falling away as an idea formed in your mind. Leaving your desk, you sat on your bed. “Okay, my lord. I’d be happy to, uh, worship your temple.” Even as you said it, you knew it was terrible. You stifled a laugh with your hand. “I mean, I’d be happy to please you with my mouth, Lord Ravus.”

“What are you doing?”

“Seducing you. Is it working?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

He was quiet for a moment, his voice growing low when he spoke. “Don’t tease me, ma crevette.”

You played with the end of your hair, curling it around a finger. “If I was there, I’d slowly get on my knees in front of you.”

No sound came through the phone. Not a word, not even a breath. You almost thought he’d hung up, but then he quietly spoke. “I’m sitting in my bedchambers. You’ve never been here.”

Blinking at this sudden statement, you asked, “What do they look like? White silk on the bed like my old room there?”

“Yes. My bed is larger.”

“So you’re sitting on your bed,” you said, hesitant about moving forward. Your hand worked at the button of your jeans, but you decided not to do that quite yet. “And I’m on my knees before you. Are you wearing your robes?”

His breath carried over the line, but he didn’t say anything for several moments. “No.”

“Are you wearing anything?”

“No.”

You unbuttoned your pants, falling back on the bed to slide your hand into your panties. If Ravus was uncomfortable, he would say so. He was good at making his boundaries known. “Neither am I. The manor is so cold. Maybe we could warm each other. Would you like that?”

“I… yes.”

“If I were there, I’d touch you. Slide my hands up your legs and kiss the inside of your thighs.” The words felt so strange coming out. You’d never really done this, but to describe parts of his body you hadn’t ever seen was exciting. You lowered your voice to a whisper, trying not to feel corny as hell. “I’d take you in hand and lick—”

“Enough,” he said, voice strained.

You paused, knocked out of the fantasy before it could even take form. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No.” He nearly grunted, and you wondered if he was regretting allowing himself this moment of vulnerability. “On your knees is no place for my beloved. I would have you in my bed.”

You let out a soft breath. “O-oh?”

“I lay you down and take in your perfect form. I want to touch you, but I don’t know where. What would you have me do?”

Heat bloomed along your skin. He was playing along, and it was definitely corny, but your heartstrings pulled at his genuine approach. “You caress my ti— my breasts and slide your hands down my sides. It’s cold and my nipples are hard. But your hands are white hot on my skin.”

Your fingers curled inside, hitting a spot that made you moan quietly. Ravus was silent for another small stretch of time, and you closed your eyes, trying to imagine it was him over you, fingers spreading you open and exploring you.

“Spread my legs with yours,” you breathed. “Touch me and feel how wet I am.”

His breath hitched. “I want to taste you.”

“Th-then do it.” Your toes curled. His deep voice was heavy and low, fanning the flames of your fantasy. “Please, Ravus.”

He said something in Tenebraen, which was all kinds of cheating. It was tense, the lilting language uttered with a low groan. You arched into your bed, pretending he was whispering that into your ear while taking you.

“L-Lucian, please.” You let out a breathy moan. “I wanna know what you’re— ah, th-thinking about.”

“You,” he whispered, his breathing labored. “Prostrate before me.”

“I thought—” You swallowed, your hand working yourself closer to a finish. Talking was becoming difficult. “Being on my knees wasn’t proper.”

A low sound came through the line. “I take you from behind. I pull your hair, and you arch beautifully for me. It’s the only way I can kiss and fuck you at the same moment.”

Him swearing almost brought you out of it for a second, your eyes opening as your breath hitched and your body shuddered with a climax that hit sooner than you expected. You whined into the phone, biting your lip to hold most of it back. Laying flat on your bed, you listened to him breath through the phone.

A giggle worked its way out of you, light and breathy. You rolled onto your side, a little embarrassed. “I can’t believe you made me come with only words.”

He cleared his throat, and you could tell he was trying to even out his breathing. “It pleases me to indulge you.”

You rubbed your fingers together, feeling the wet stickiness of them. “Aren’t you going to finish, too?”

Taking a deep breath, he quieted on the line, then seemed to let it go. “I don’t touch myself, as a rule.”

Your skin was flush from getting worked up, and now it burned hotter with sudden humiliation. You’d assumed he was in the throws of it with you, but he’d only been listening to you come undone alone.

“You’re so weird,” you said, almost rubbing your hand down your face before thinking better of it. “Why not just let go?”

He seemed to think, the line growing quiet again. This happened often enough that you’ stopped worrying he’d hung up on you.

“It’s not an easy thing to take on without experience,” he eventually said. His tone was even, much calmer than before. “I never had reason to feel this way before I met you. It’s deeply frustrating, at times unbearably so.”

It struck you that Ravus probably didn’t know his body all that well. Not sexually, at least. You’d known he was repressed, but this gave his abstinence more meaning and sense.

You hummed appreciatively, a smile crossing your face. “Telling me how bad you want me is pretty good pillow talk for someone who’s never done this before.”

“I’m nothing if not honest.”

He didn’t sound completely over your earlier interaction, and you bit back a laugh as you shoved up from the bed. March couldn’t come soon enough.

—

A tropical storm was making its way across the sea, set to hit the southern coast of Lucis before week’s end. It was forecasted as the first of several that would torment Galdin Quay and its surrounding areas. The ports were set to close for an estimated two months.

You read this during your online browsing as you waited for your pie to cool. It was Ignis’ favorite, one you’d made specially for his birthday celebration. It seemed like the best way to let him know he looked like shit and needed to give himself a break, a callback to one of your first friendly gestures toward him.

The article about the storm distressed you. If the ports were closed for two months, you wouldn’t be able to reach Tenebrae until April. That threw out all of your plans. While you boxed the pie into a safe, decorated container, you made a hard choice. You either left today and made the trip before the ports closed or you lost all of your opportunities. There was no way the Producer could hold the job for you for an entire month’s absence, and the apartment you’d yet to put a deposit on wouldn’t just sit empty and waiting.

Packing what little you actually owned, you let Mom know of your sudden departure without letting yourself to stop and think about it. She seemed unsurprised, already having dealt with this once before. You hugged her for so long, the taxi driver waiting in the driveway kept sending you impatient looks.

The trip to the city was made with one hand on the pie box to keep it steady in the seat next to you and the other hand quickly sending out messages to everyone whose help you needed. You had to stop by the Citadel to pick up your passport, and meet with Luna to have her send yet another message to her mother about your new arrival time and to hand off the pie because you weren’t going to make Ignis’ party.

Your mind was a flurry of rushed thoughts, anxiety, and excitement. It didn’t really hit you that you were leaving _now, right now_ until you were passing through the Wall in Aranea’s car. She’d volunteered to take you since she had “business” with some guy in Galdin Quay anyway. You still didn’t know what she did as a commodore, but you were beginning to think it was an honorary title left over from a previous job.

You made one pit stop in Hammerhead, picking up your gun and getting food. The sun hang low in the sky, the desert heat cooling into something mild and manageable as night approached. Your phone rang as Aranea talked up Cindy who appraised her car. Never having seen Aranea show so much interest in a person, you almost didn’t notice the call come through. Ignis’ face lit up your screen, an old photo from your time together. You blinked, abruptly realizing you were leaving the country on his birthday.

“Hey, sorry,” you answered, guilt seeping into your voice. “I probably should’ve sent a note or called about not making it.”

He chuckled, and you eased a little at the sound. “That’s quite alright. I heard you had to be out of port before the bad weather.”

You watched Aranea lean on her car, eyeing Cindy as she bent a little to clean one of the headlights. Titan, this was painfully obvious, and by the sound of Cindy’s laugh that carried across the lot, the mechanic didn’t mind. No wonder Prompto had no luck there.

Looking away from the two, you said, “Yeah, I couldn’t lay around my mom’s place forever.”

“Although I wish I could’ve seen you off, I’m happy you’ve finally decided to follow your dream to Altissia.”

You faltered, the toe of your boot digging into the ground. “Actually, I’m going to Tenebrae. My old boss has a job for me.”

“Ah, that’s— wonderful to hear,” he said. “I suppose you’d want to be closer to Lord Ravus, as well.”

You smiled, glad to know that there were no longer ill feelings about this particular subject if he was okay bringing it up. “Yeah. It feels kinda crazy, but… I dunno. A high risk move gets a high payout, I guess.” You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling an old warmth at being able to say this to him. Maybe you weren’t perfect friends, but you had a past that made your relationship special, you thought. “I’m glad I can talk with you about this, Ignis. And I really am sorry for missing your birthday.”

Another chuckle, this one quieter. You wondered if he’d stepped out of his party to make this call because you hadn’t heard anyone else in the background. “As I said, it’s fine. Thank you for the pie. It’s as perfect now as it was last time.”

“Good,” you said, turning around again to see Aranea waving you over to get going. She began to yell your name when you ignored her.

_Please take care of yourself._

“It sounds like you have to go. Safe travels.”

You thanked him as you walked toward Aranea’s car, ending the call before getting in. The lingering guilt over missing his birthday was consumed by your excitement for Tenebrae.

—

You were received by the squire before you even made it to Fenestala Manor. She was waiting at the train station, her face a mask of complete seriousness.

“Squire!” you called, practically hopping out of the train car with your bag. She’d grown a little taller in the year that you hadn’t seen her. You had to look up to meet her eyes now.

“Not squire,” she said, squaring her shoulders, though you saw a hint of amusement tug at her mouth. “Knight.”

You nodded appraisingly. “Good for you, kid. Is that what’s kept you so busy?”

Finally, a smile broke along her face, and she nodded as she took your bag and threw it over her shoulder easily. “Lord Ravus was gone so I trained.”

The walk to the manor was easy but cold, the wind biting at you as you crossed bridges. Guards let you in, nodding at both of you in passing. The Honorguard here were overall friendlier than the Crownsguard in the Citadel. There were fewer of them, and as you made your way deeper into the castle, you even saw a few faces you recognized.

Since your apartment wasn’t ready for another two weeks, you’d hoped to stay in the manor until you could move to the city at the base of the mountain. With the squire— knight meeting you at the station, you realized your sudden request for a place to stay had been accepted when you’d asked Luna to convey it to her mother. It felt surreal to be back, walking the same halls that you’d coursed through every single day over a year before. Surreal but good.

The knight took you to a guest room, putting your bag down on a sette. “The door locks,” she said, making you laugh. “And you get your own washroom.”

You looked around the place, but it didn’t really hold your interest. You were lagged from all the traveling so the bed was tempting. You went to the mirror and straightened yourself out, sending a meaningful look to the knight that went right over her head.

“Where can I find Ravus?” You turned around, satisfied with your appearance.

She blinked, her smile growing. “At this time? I would say… the secret room.”

It took you a moment to think on that. Then you remembered that no one really knew what was in the private library aside from the few that had keys to it.

You ushered her out of your new room and thanked her with barely contained elation. The right thing to do would be to go to Queen Sylva and thank her for letting you stay. Instead, you walked the familiar path of corridors to one of your favorite places in Eos.

The key, ever present in your pocket next to the carbuncle, unlocked the door with a _click_ that bounced off the marble walls. You steadied yourself, trying to calm your heart because you were _finally here,_ and you hoped he took this surprise well. Pushing the door open, you gazed about the library, eyes landing on Ravus where he sat among the pillows in a corner of the space. The book in his hands fell to his lap, his eyes widening when meeting yours. He stood while you stepped forward, letting the door close behind you.

“I was in the neighborhood,” you said, voice sounding so loud in the quiet of the room. You lowered it as he approached you, his shock so apparent that you were beginning to worry this had been a bad decision. “Thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

His eyes tore over you, blue and violet taking in your every feature. He lifted hands to cup your face, your breath catching as he crushed a kiss to your lips. You grabbed his wrists, leaning up and into him. Pulling his hands down to your waist, you let go, mouth moving against his with swift intensity.

He drew you to him, his mouth forcing yours open. You clutched at his robes, hoping he didn’t hate the taste of the candy you’d eaten on your train ride. A hug had been the most you’d anticipated, but now you were melting against him and couldn’t believe you’d expected anything less.

You broke away to catch your breath. He looked down at you, a hand coming back to your cheek. He still seemed in disbelief. When you reached up a hand to tuck some of his silvery hair out of his face, he smiled slightly. His thumb brushed your cheek, colder than he probably realized.

He leaned down again. You thought he would kiss you, but he pulled you into a hug, holding you against his chest. He spoke quietly into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his middle. “Welcome back.”

—

You spent time with him in the library, detailing the entirety of your plans to stay before drifting off as he read. You woke up to fingers brushing through your hair, seeing him above you. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but his hand played with your locks idly, sending little shivers down your spine at the gentle touch. Lifting your head from his lap, you smiled at winning his attention over from the book he read.

You reached up, stretching your arms and yawning. The pillows were comfier than you remembered. You settled in next to him, sleepily resting your head against his arm. “What are you reading?”

He drew the arm around you, a gesture that was unfamiliar in this setting. You settled in closer, feeling heat at your face and in your chest despite how cold the castle was.

“I’m brushing up on Cosmogony.” He closed the book, showing you its faded blue cover. “It’s almost dinnertime.”

You walked with him, wanting to hold his hand but keeping a respectful distance so the guards wouldn’t send curious looks. It was different sitting next to him at the dining table, your closeness as you reached to pick at what you wanted from his plate more indicative of a deeper relationship than it used to be. It made you feel shy at first, hyper aware of the kitchen staff that kept looking at you when they brought out each course.

After dinner, he suggested you rest so you could recover from the travel properly. He had a busy schedule the next day and needed rest himself. Your bashfulness faded at the thought of parting from him so soon. You held a firm grip on his sleeve as you followed him through the manor to a wing you’d never been down before.

“Are we going to your rooms?” you asked, keeping up with him with hurried steps.

“ _I’m_ going to my rooms. You should go to your own.”

You looked at the statues and ornamental decor on this end, unremarkably similar to the rest of the place but still new enough to your knowledge that you kept looking about in fascination. You hadn’t been allowed here last time, and you wondered vaguely what else about the castle you hadn’t known about.

He stopped in front of a door, and you ran into him. Your hold on his sleeve dropped as you rubbed your nose and stepped back. Turning around, he looked down at you with an unamused expression.

“Rest, ma crevette. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But I wanna sleep with you.” You gripped the front of his robes, and he gently pried your hand off, holding it at bay. His hand was calloused and warmer than before, ensconcing yours completely. “Just sleep, I promise.”

“No.”

It was definite, a hard answer that halted your eagerness. You slipped your hand from his, letting it drop to your side and fighting a pout because he was being reasonable. “Goodnight, then.”

He brought a hand to your jaw, leaning down and kissing you in a smooth motion. It ended before you could kiss back, and you reached for him, keeping him there for a moment longer.

“Sleep well,” he said, drawing back again, this time not letting you hold on to him.

The sharp, handsome angles of his face were striking in the low light of the corridor. You made yourself take a step back to keep from following him inside. When he closed the door, you turned to leave, realizing at the last second that a guard had been standing at the end of the hall. They didn’t look at you until you slowed on your way past. You nodded, feeling the creep of embarrassment crawl over you. They were witness to a rejection of what could've been a sexual proposition. Wonderful. You were getting off to such a great start upon your return.

—

You struck up a familiar routine. Saturdays were made of silence, slight looks and motions of your hands meaning a lot between you. The rest were a mixed bag of finding ways to occupy yourself while Ravus worked, trying not to make a fool of yourself in front of the Oracle for the nth time, and hiding away with him to catch up by way of soft touches and kisses that were far too innocent for your usual taste.

But it was fine. You were here, and you hadn’t come to regret it yet. So what if he could make you come undone with a few choice words but decided to kiss you like you were the most breakable thing on the planet? You didn’t mind. He was just teaching you the virtue of patience, you told yourself.

Shiva, you _hoped_ that was his game.

—

You were focused, your attention consumed by the task at hand. The silence of the library helped you along, enveloping you comfortably, only disrupted by the occasional _fwip_ as Ravus turned a page in his book.

Your lips were chapped, a mark of the cold, dry season. Winter should’ve been on its way out, but you felt like it was cold in the manor all year round. Chewing on your lower lip, you furrowed your brow and stared at the next passage in the film manual you’d found. Apparently, you’d been doing things incorrectly when it came to jump cuts. Which seemed so stupid because film was an art form, and art didn’t need to have rules. You were constantly skirting the edge of doing things the _wrong way_ , but didn’t that just make you an innovator?

At the sound of shuffling, you looked up. Ravus’ arm, which had been resting against yours had lifted, his hand closing the book as he turned to you. Releasing your lower lip, you looked up at him in question. Was it dinnertime already? Before you could check your phone, he touched your cheek, thumb brushing your skin softly.

His hand was cold, much like your own. You closed the manual and placed a hand over his, giving him a smile. This was a good sign that he was becoming more comfortable with himself. You’d never met a man more repressed, and you were pretty sure that, someday, it was all going to tumble out of him. You hoped you’d be the one to see it.

He lowered his gaze to your mouth, and your breath picked up, smile waning. Would he really? With your chapped lips? Since it was a Saturday, and you’d long grown to not speaking, especially while in the library, you invited him in with a tilt of your head.

_It’s okay._

For a moment longer, he made no move, eyes coming back up to meet yours. A little smile came to you, letting him know you were happy either way. Being close was enough. You were going to master this patience thing.

When he dropped his hand, though, you felt mild disappointment despite not knowing what it would mean to go beyond this weird place you’d found in each other. It was nice, this limbo. No expectations out of each other and full transparency. What happened after that, though?

Were you really expected to marry him some day? The thought was nuts. No, you couldn’t think about that right now. That really was thinking too far ahead.

You didn’t reopen the manual; along with all of your other thoughts, it was bumming you out to keep learning that you’d been doing this or that incorrectly. Chewing on your lip again, you let it go, realizing Ravus was still turned toward you.

His hands were gripping the book in his lap. His mismatched eyes trailed you as you leaned across the pillows to put the manual on a shelf. It needed to get away from you. For today, at least. You’d revisit later to discover more of your flaws in practice. For now, you were going to braid Ravus’ hair or something. You needed to empty your mind of stressful thoughts. It was a rest day, for Astrals’ sake.

Sitting back to look at Ravus, you lifted a hand to motion your intent to play with his hair. It wasn’t something you ever did with other people. The practice seemed pretty weird if placed in any other setting with any other person. Surprising you, he took your raised hand and pressed it to his cheek.

You grinned, leaning forward to press your forehead to his chest. It was warm, and you drew closer to get more of it, wrapping an arm around his waist in a half assed hug. It was a little awkward, given the situation, but you felt the contented sigh as it heaved softly from somewhere deep in his chest. When you leaned back, you found him with his eyes closed.

Bringing your other hand to cup his face, you drew him down. His eyes opened at the press of your mouth on his cheek, and he turned his head in time to catch your second kiss with his lips, startling a small laugh out of you. A corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. Then, his eyes were closing again, and he was kissing you without any of the earlier restraint.

Melting into Ravus was easy. He was beginning to kiss like someone practiced, like you were exactly what he’d been waiting for, like he wanted to savor the very taste of you for as long as he could. You bit his lip and felt the way he held back a sound, his breath hitching slightly before he brought a hand to your nape, forcing a deeper kiss in reaction. His hands never deviated, either out of respect for your boundaries or his own lack of experience.

Generally, men were all hands, women would tease, and occasionally there would be people who would grope even before trying to kiss you. Ravus was on his own. Polite touches between heated kisses. Another contradiction you’d have to add to the ever-growing list.

One of your hands found his, tugging it from its loose grip on a pillow. His hand at your neck held you firmly, fingers curling into your hair as his tongue explored your mouth. Leaning into him, you brought his free hand to your chest. If nothing else, you considered yourself appropriately forward and hoped this didn’t make him recoil.

He broke the kiss, his chest rocking with heavy breaths. Eyes open again, mouth only a breath apart from your own, he looked at you with uncertainty. You let go of his hand, inviting him to stop if you were taking it too far. You considered yourself decently endowed, but if Ravus wasn’t into it, there wasn’t much you could do. His hand remained in place, though, and when you gently scratched your nails along his jaw, he closed his eyes, kissing you with renewed fervor.

Ravus didn’t need your guidance. You’d known this from the moment you met him. Even in this, the one thing you had _much_ more personal experience with, he seemed to come to it naturally over time. You weren’t sure if it was you in particular that had brought this out in him, or if he’d spent his entire adulthood avoiding sex because he’d only ever expected to be used as a religious figure. When he held you so closely and touched you so tenderly, you didn’t really care why, only that you didn’t want him to ever stop.

—

Brushing your hair over one shoulder, you thought better of it and brushed it onto the other. Okay, no. You were overthinking again. Ravus had let you join him in his room for the night. You suspected it was due to you moving to your own place in the city the next day, but you didn’t care _why_ he’d had a change of heart, only that you wanted to get the most out of this opportunity that he’d give you.

You were comfy in his bed, the blankets already drawn up because the place was so cold, it sent shivers through your scantily clad body. Your nipples were startlingly obvious through your thin nightshirt, and you were deliberating on whether or not to hide that from Ravus when he stepped out of his bathroom.

His pajamas were quaint, a white and grey plaid that almost made you roll your eyes. Ravus was, without a doubt, pure evil. His hair was disheveled, his face clean shaven —you knew because you’d felt the stubble earlier and saw none now— and he’d purposely left his top completely unbuttoned.

The muscle of his stomach shifted as he bent to turn off a lamp on that end of his room. You lowered your drawn up knees, stretching them out underneath the blanket. There was no way in hell you were going to hide the obvious effects of the cold air now. This jerk deserved to be uncomfortable if he was going to tease you with glimpses of things he wouldn’t let you touch.

“Y’know, you’re lucky I’m in love with you,” you said as he climbed into bed next to you. “Torturing me like that is unfair.”

The bed was massive, large enough that you could spread out without touching him. It was honestly too fucking much, in your opinion. You’d placed yourself directly in the middle so he’d have no choice but to get close no matter what end he chose.

Hiding his legs under the warmth of the covers, he looked at you. “In love?”

“Yeah, I’m in love with you. Why else would I be here?” You sent him a jokingly incredulous look, counting off on your fingers. “You hate movies, you’re pretty much old enough to be my dad, and you’ve never touched a boob. I _should_ be running for the hills.”

“I’ve touched your breast.” As expected, his eyes made a less than subtle travel from your face to your chest. Then he looked away entirely, pink dusting his face.

“Barely,” you laughed. “Over my shirt doesn’t really count.”

He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back as he faced you again. “Ma crevette, what is your point?”

You shifted your legs under the sheets, poking at him with a toe. “I think you know.”

Looking at you for a long moment, he let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized he was holding in. Then he took off his pajama top, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Uncertain of his intentions at first, you froze when he took your hand and brought it to his chest.

“I invite you to touch me,” he said, leaning down toward you to ghost lips over your neck as he spoke. You were suddenly glad you’d moved your hair to the other shoulder now. “Stay above my waist, or I’ll send you back to your own room.”

You nodded, barely listening as you felt the steady beat of his heart against your palm. His hand left yours as he leaned back. You shifted, facing him as you lifted your other hand and pressed it to his chest as well. Spreading out your fingers, you splayed your hands and almost wanted to make a joke about groping him, but no. You didn’t want to make light of this. He was extending his trust, and you wanted to keep it that way.

You could feel him watching you as your hands moved curiously along his bare skin. It was slightly flushed, a pink that contrasted with the alabaster. Even knowing he was affected by this simple touch, you burned under his gaze. Your fingers traced the ridges of his stomach and smoothed over every defined line of his arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, glancing up to see if you were making him uncomfortable. He’d closed his eyes, a slight smile pulling at his lips. Encouraged by this, your hands left him to slide your own shirt off. The cold air kissed your skin, and you shivered involuntarily.

Ravus’ eyes opened when you took hold of his hand. He blinked down at you, eyes widening and breath catching in his throat. You lifted his hand and brought it to your breast. He visibly swallowed, his eyes moving upward to meet yours.

Your free hand went to his shoulder, and he met you in a kiss with little prompting. Your hands resumed their journey across his skin. You leaned into his touch. The pad of his thumb swept over your hardened nipple, and he squeezed the full weight of it in his hand, the motion uncertain and careful. You moaned softly into the kiss to reassure him.

When you tried to lean into him further, he pressed back, to your surprise. You wanted to climb onto his lap, but he overpowered you without trying, leaning over you as you lay back. One of his hands held him up as the other moved from one peak to the other. His mouth left yours, and he trailed wet kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin. You hoped he left another mark, a childish part of you wanting everyone in the manor to see.

But he didn’t stop to bite and suck at your skin, not there. His teeth grazed your collar, and your hands went to his hair, tangling in the silver locks. You quivered underneath him, sucking in a sharp breath when his tongue dipped from his mouth to circle the sensitive skin of the nipple that wasn’t getting the attention of his hand. He sucked at your soft flesh, his mouth searingly hot and reverent against you.

Breaths rocked your chest heavily, but he remained steady. He teased you with both his tongue and his eyes, which met yours and remained there while he bit you just enough to hurt before letting go. Watching his lips circle your other nipple and give it the same hard treatment made you bend into him.

His emboldened state had you wanting. He was beautiful above you, his sharp eyes focused on your every reaction to his attention. An ache began between your legs, and you knew this couldn’t keep going for much longer or you’d snap.

He kissed the curve of your breast, closing his eyes to nuzzle between them as his hands brought them together. It was clear he’d never experienced this, and you, to be completely fair, had never been touched with such fascination.

You tilted your head back with a loud moan as he shifted above you, his thigh pressing hard against the wet, hot juncture between your thighs. You could feel him, plainly and wholly hard against you, but you knew what was about to come.

The warmth of his mouth left you. He placed a kiss on each breast, a gentle and unnecessary farewell before he removed himself. The loss of his heat made you shiver, and you pulled the blankets up over yourself, shifting in the large bed to get comfortable.

Ravus turned off the remaining light on his side of the bed, plunging the room into darkness. You reached for him, hand meeting his back. He stiffened for a moment, then eased as you drew closer. It was better that he faced away, you thought. Better to pretend you both weren’t so affected by this. You’d gotten to know each other a little better. That was all. Aching heat and erections aside.

Gods, this was torture.

Playing the big spoon even though you were smaller, you wrapped an arm over him and pressed close to his back. Your nose brushed the skin along his shoulder blades. You kissed him there and felt his hand come to rest over yours at his stomach.

“I love you,” you whispered, bending your knees to curl into him.

His hand on yours tightened, and he hummed an affirmative sound, soft but slightly strained.

Sleep came once you calmed, your breath evening out with his own.

—

“It’s pathetically small.”

You scoffed, shoving at Ravus though he didn’t budge whatsoever. “It’s all I could afford.”

Your new place was a one bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. You’d liked the location and tolerated the rental agreement because it was such a short walk to the train station. Ravus looked down at you with abject surprise, as if this place equated to a cardboard box alongside a busy highway.

“I sold _everything_ I owned, okay?” You threw up your hands, kind of frustrated that he’d make you feel bad about your choice of living. “Even the months of freelance work and selling the pen token could only get me so far. It wasn’t cheap getting here, y’know.”

Ravus’ brow drew downward, furrowing as he asked, “You sold the pen you’d made for Scientia?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. I sold it months ago.”

His stare lingered for a moment longer, then he looked away, gaze going about the place. “I hadn’t known. You never told me.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you said, touching the crook of his elbow. Your hand slid down his arm, taking hold of his. You pulled him toward the bedroom, showing him the view out of your window. It wasn’t anything special, just a glimpse of the street below. Your neighborhood was quaint, little shops and cafes lining the block in a charming sweep of colorful displays and tented tables.

It held his attention for all of two seconds. Then he looked about your bedroom, gaze stopping at the sleeping bag you had on the floor.

“Is that where you sleep?”

You kicked at it. “Yeah. I haven’t gotten around to getting a bed yet.”

You’d taken to your job pretty quickly. It had only been a week, but you loved the busyness of it. After spending a day of quiet reflection with Ravus on your first weekend on your own, he’d seen you home personally. And he didn’t seem to like your home very much at all. He was such a snob, you thought affectionately.

It was easy convincing him to go back to the manor. Your place offered almost nothing by way of entertainment.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when, unwinding after work the next day, a couple of men knocked at your door with a bed frame in tow. Your Tenebraen wasn’t good enough to quite express your rejection of the bed, but they kept insisting that they _must_ set it up for you because they’d been specifically instructed to ignore your protest.

Once they were gone, you looked sullenly at the bed that took up nearly the entirety of your bedroom. Snapping a picture of it, you sent it to Luna.

**_You:_ ** _Your brother has outdone himself once again. Look at the bed he bought me._

While you made dinner out of cup noodles —eating cheap until life steadied out— she surprised you with a call rather than a response to your text.

“I see my brother has lost all subtlety in his intent to court you. Careful that he doesn’t buy you a house next.”

The words weren’t ominous at first mention, but as you laughed, staring into your cup of noodles, you were finally having doubts. “Did I make a mistake coming here?”

Luna didn’t hesitate. “Do you think so?”

“No. I don’t know.” You put down the cup, your appetite waning at a rapidly increasing rate. “I don’t think so, but I _did_ just leave my country for him. Is this insane? This is completely insane—”

Luna interrupted you with a laugh. “Perhaps, but you’re there. That means something.”

“It means I’ve totally lost it.”

“Listen.” She went quiet for a moment despite her soft order. “I witnessed Ignis pine for you every day that you were in Tenebrae. Noctis was torn about what had happened. It seemed as if everyone had been.”

Okay? You sent a confused look toward nothing, wishing there was a way to convey it over the phone. “That’s not really helping, Luna.”

“No, please listen.” Her gentle insistence made you shut up. She took a swift inhale of breath, then said, “It isn’t easy to admit that I had hoped you would choose my brother. I’d seen how the loss of your presence here had affected Ignis. Saying even your name had been a swear around him for a time.”

“That’s… cool,” you interjected with quiet sarcasm.

“Love changes and transforms, but it shouldn’t cause a person to utterly wilt when it’s taken away. I don’t…” She laughed quietly. “I don’t think you realize just how much you nurtured my brother with your stay. Your love affected him greatly, although he chooses not to show it. What he lacks in expression, he proves in other ways.”

You chewed on your lip and picked up the cup ramen again, twisting the noodles around with your chopsticks idly. No words were coming to you. She was saying Ravus hadn’t wilted under uncertainty like Ignis had. Maybe you were more like Ignis in that way, but you needed someone like Ravus to steady you.

“For what my biased opinion is worth, I don’t think you made a mistake in moving to Tenebrae.” She let out a soft breath, and her voice came sincerely. “I don’t think you made a mistake at all.”

You looked across the small space of your apartment at the huge bed that you didn’t have sheets big enough for. A laugh tumbled out of you, and your mind relaxed. There were worse things than having someone love you this much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read a bit of this chapter from Ignis' pov, here is an [angsty oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862197) about how he actually spent his birthday.
> 
> Tiny warning for people who don’t care for nsfw stuff: While it had been an emotional slow burn with Ignis, it’s a sexual slow burn with Ravus. Expect to catch glimpses of varying degrees of smut for the remainder of this.
> 
> As always, thank you <3


	6. Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravus refuses to hold your hand as you traverse the tricky rules of your new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big apologies to anyone who speaks French. I try to use it sparingly since adopting it as Tenebraen, but what I _do_ use it for may have inaccurate meanings/translations because my knowledge is limited even after a bit of research.
> 
> Actually, I just want to do a blanket apology for all kinds of things. There _will_ be typos. And things may be repetitive and/or frustrating, but I put love into it, nonetheless.

You hadn’t slept in thirty eight hours, emptying yet another Ebony as you walked from one camera to another. Every time you positioned one, the second assistant camera person changed it. The empty coffee can in your hand crunched as you made a fist and walked back toward them.

“Stop moving the cameras, fucker,” you bit out, shoving him out of the way to fix it again. You were the _first_ assistant camera, so you considered yourself his boss. It helped that he was the only other Lucian on the entire crew so you’d grown especially comfortable around him.

He walked around you, going to a different camera to adjust it. “Stop being anal about everything, twat.”

You snorted with a roll of your eyes. Before you could respond, the person just above you on the set hierarchy loudly cleared her throat and told you off in fluid Tenebraen. “ _Why don’t you both stop playing and focus. The scene’s about to start._ ”

Hastily handing your trash to one of the assistants, you blinked against the sleep that burned at your eyes. You pulled the camera into focus as the scene began and fought an eye-watering yawn. The job was all consuming, the routine punishing on most days. The television drama you worked on was wrapping up production on its season finale. Which meant no rest before a long vacation.

Today was the last day of production so there was little room for playing around or wasting time. They’d wanted to finish right before the autumnal equinox celebration began on the mountain. As excited as you were about the celebration, you were also met with a fair amount of anxiety.

This unfortunate feeling plagued you for two reasons: no one at work knew of your close relationship to the Oracle’s family, and you wouldn’t have anything to do for five entire months after today as the television drama waited for approval on another season and the boring pre-production garbage was taken care of.

You’d been so busy working over the past month that you hadn’t gotten the chance to look into a day job in preparation for your off-months, and the worry over how you were going to pay for your food and bills, let alone your rent, needled at the back of your mind relentlessly. For now, you focused on the task at hand, ignoring your little mental voice that sounded so much like Ravus, urging you to figure your shit out better.

One of the actors on camera suddenly let out an annoyed sound, looking directly at you through the monitor. You blinked, not understanding what was going on. They weren’t supposed to look directly at the cameras, it was unprofessional. Ravus’ voice continued to plague your mind, and you looked away from the camera to turn around at a commotion behind you.

Standing in the stark light of the hallway that led to the exit was Ravus, talking with no small amount of irritation at one of your coworkers who was too busy fumbling with their phone to notice just how much they were angering the prince.

The director called to cut, and the entire place began to move, people shifting around, carrying things, and approaching the actors. You left the camera to approach Ravus and your coworker. Said person was now trying to get a selfie with Ravus, and you quickened your pace to save them from being thrown across the room for not respecting Ravus’ personal space.

“Papa—” You cut yourself off. It was already bad enough that he was there. He’d _never_ visited you at work before. Dealing with the attention or possible repercussions of having people know about your personal life wasn’t something you wanted when you already had so much on your plate.

Ravus looked up as you approached through the dimly lit studio and pushed past your coworker, his annoyance abating somewhat but not entirely. He crossed his arms, and you were thankful he wasn’t comfortable with public displays of affection.

“You haven’t answered your phone in two days.”

You were further thankful he was used to conversing in Lucian with you because almost no one on set could speak your native language. Waving an arm around, nearly knocking into a best boy carrying a small prop, you said, “I’ve been kinda busy here. Y’know, working?”

His expression eased further, sharp eyes analyzing your face carefully. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

As if on cue, a yawn forced its way out of you. Stifling it with the back of your hand, you shrugged. “I’ll make up for it when I get to the manor tonight.”

Ravus seemed ready to retort, but your coworker who’d been bothering him earlier sidled up next to you both. They looked from him to you, eyes wide and smile broad. “ _Is he here to bless the set?_ ”

You sent them a confused glance as Ravus scowled. You lifted a hand to stop Ravus before he could say something heinous to them. His temperament wasn’t widely known to be agreeable or kind so an outburst wouldn’t have been a surprise to any of your coworkers, who were now stopping their tasks to slowly crowd around the sudden appearance of the Oracle in training.

“ _No, he’s just saying hello,_ ” you rushed to say. “ _He used to be my sponsor. We’re old friends._ ”

Ravus blinked, his scowl easing into a frown. “Why would you say that, ma crevette?”

“What? It’s true.” You dropped your hand, hitching it at your hip. The rest of what you wanted to say fell silent as a litany of gasps erupted around you from the coworkers who had gathered. You looked around, eyes moving from face to face, confused by the unanimous surprise. “What’s going on?”

Ravus’ arms loosened, falling to his sides. “How should I know? They’re _your_ band of buffoons.”

The second assistant camera person snickered a little, catching your attention as he came to your side. You sent him a glance, wishing they would all go away so you could talk to Ravus without everyone and their mom listening in.

“Are you nearly finished?” he asked, straightening the front of his robes.

The work day technically ended at nine in the evening, but several hours of that included a large wrap party that you didn’t plan to be present for. The scene Ravus’ arrival had interrupted was the last one planned to shoot for the season.

“Maybe another hour?” you guessed, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

Ravus nodded. “I’ll wait.”

He made to turn around, but the people that had surrounded him blocked his path. With a renewed scowl, he bit out, “ _Out of my way._ ” Only he could make the romantic language of Tenebraen sound cutting.

You smacked your forehead at the wake of your coworkers who turned toward you once he walked to the open doors to the hallway. He stopped there, leaning back against a wall and crossing his arms. You sent him a dirty look, not understanding why he’d chosen today of all days to be an utter ass in your workplace.

Getting back to work, you swapped out the lense of a camera, ignoring the looks of everyone around you. Ravus’ presence had better not slow down production, you thought. After your extensive work hours, you were more than ready to take a much needed break and didn’t want to spend more time than necessary working.

The second assistant camera person walked past with a new lense for a different piece of equipment, stopping on his way to grin at you. “I should’ve known by the tattoo. There’s a lot you haven’t been telling me, you silly bitch.”

Adjusting the camera, all you did was grunt noncommittally in reply. You weren’t entertaining any assumptions your coworkers wanted to make about Ravus. It was an unreasonable expectation to have any semblance of privacy in your industry, but you’d hoped to keep your personal and professional lives separate for as long as you could.

“If _I_ was sleeping with Prince Ravus, I would’ve told everyone I knew _immediately._ ”

That made you look at him. “What now?”

His grin only grew. “Ma crevette? It’s fucking golden. _Why_ have you been hiding him?”

Your hands paused on the equipment, your brows furrowing in confusion. “You think I’m sleeping with him because he calls me his shrimp?” Heat sprang across your face uncomfortably. He was close, but not quite. You weren’t sleeping with Ravus, but not for a lack of trying. The man had, as Prompto had said, become your greatest challenge yet.

“Shrimp?” The camera person laughed a little, blinking a couple of times before his expression froze a little. You returned the stare, not understanding. “You don’t know what he’s calling you?”

“His shrimp, I know,” you said, impatient for some kind of understanding. “Because I’m small and silly.”

“No.” He laughed again with a quick shake of his head. “I mean, yeah, it literally means shrimp, but it’s a really common Tenebraen term of endearment.”

You took this in, sending a glance toward Ravus who was blatantly ignoring the pair of workers who stood nervously near him, too afraid to actually approach. “Really?”

Second camera person nodded. “It’s a little old fashioned; it’s like saying _my sweetheart_ or something.”

Again, you looked at Ravus, this time catching him looking your way. The burning at your face grew more intense as you began to recall every time and every location in which he’d called you _ma crevette._ He’d been calling you his sweetheart in every instance? You’d thought for sure that he’d been making fun of you all this time, just like you’d been teasing him with _papa-gâteau._

He’d begun calling you that before you’d even left Tenebrae. Had he liked you even then?

You were forced to rid yourself of those thoughts as people began to retake their places, the actors returning to set and the director pacing along just outside the frame of the cameras. Returning to work, you spent the last hour of your workday trying not to get worked up over the fact that all of your personal secrecy for the entire season had been rendered pointless by two words spoken on your very last day of work.

—

The festival attire given to you was different than it had been the last time you’d lived in Tenebrae. You hadn’t anticipated receiving any sort of special robes since you weren’t living in the manor this time. So you were slightly confused when the knight gave you a neatly folded bundle of white the moment you’d arrived to the manor with Ravus.

Now you curiously played with the silver threading that swirled along the hems of the sleeves. Was this your inundation, some sort of weird claim for the minor nobility and citizens all to see that you weren’t just another guest? Last time, as an honorary part of the household, you’d worn borrowed robes out of politeness and irony. Now, they made you a touch nervous.

You pushed back one of the sleeves, looking at your tattoo. It was probably silly to feel this way when you’d so blatantly marked yourself already. Smoothing out the sleeve, you smiled to yourself as you crossed the parlor to the piano where Ravus sat.

He was in the middle of a song, one he knew you loved. You slid onto the bench next to him, keeping out of his way so he could finish. His eyes, which had been closed with a relaxed sort of concentration, opened as his head turned to you. His hands remaining graceful, he returned his focus to the keys with the smallest smile.

Learning different pieces together had been something he’d suggested to offset the time spent alone together in the private library. No matter how peaceful, no matter how innocent and cuddly your moments began there, it almost always ended up a bit racier than intended. Reading together led to him holding you against the pillows and kissing you like you were his only lifeforce. Braiding his hair became slick, open-mouthed bites along his neck that excited him.

And you, being you, always encouraged it.

In a way, as he slowly unraveled himself, you were also experiencing things for the first time. You felt like a teenager, flush with so many new feelings, hiding away just to go no further than second base. You’d never done this. It had been a complete one eighty from awkward virgin high schooler to sexually experimental and free university student for you. This long dance was teaching you just as much about yourself as it was Ravus.

But Ravus, being himself, was stubborn.

You’d begun to occupy your time together in different ways to fight the increasingly prominent pull you had to touch one another. Well, _he_ was fighting it. You were just respecting his wishes and really learning the meaning of the word patience. Aside from playing piano, you’d practice yoga —that one was especially trying— and play chess. Sure, he’d yet to touch you below the belt, but you’d gotten _very_ flexible and had numerous winning chess moves memorized.

The payoff didn’t feel equivalent, and most weekends spent in the manor had you going back to your apartment with intense sexual frustration. But you were rounding yourself in other ways, a spiritual growth that you hoped had better pay off some day.

The song came to a soft end, Ravus’ fingers stilling on the keys for a moment before going to his lap.

“Everyone is to arrive today,” he said, turning to you. “Have you gone over the reception etiquette in the documents I sent?”

You stared at him, smile fading. “The what?”

His silver brows furrowed, his head canting with mild confusion. “I mailed a file of information to you that the Oracle gathered regarding your position.”

You pressed a key, letting the sound fill the quiet air. This line of conversation, as rarely as it came up, was making your nervousness grow into something that you couldn’t easily push aside. “Which is?”

Ravus hooked your finger with his own, lifting it away to release the key. The air quieted suddenly, and you looked up at him in question.

“My partner,” he said, expression softening the slightest.

You were used to his gentle intensity, a side of him that only ever breached the surface when you were alone. It made being with him feel natural, the easiest thing in the world. With his honesty and his bluntness, you always knew what was on his mind because he would inevitably tell you exactly what he thought and felt.

Like the ancient Tenebraen poem had suggested, this was very much a double edged sword about his personality. Not all of his thoughts made you happy, especially if they were about certain people in your life. You appreciated always knowing where you stood with one another, all the same.

Smiling again, you pulled your finger from his, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your robes again. “You mean your _sweetheart_? Since that’s what you’ve been calling me for the past, I dunno, _two_ years.”

Ravus stared down at you, eyes unwavering on yours. “To be fair, ma crevette, I’d thought you clever enough to have figured that out much sooner.”

The way the pet name rolled off his tongue left you feeling vastly different now. He hadn’t, at least not in front of anyone who knew Tenebraen, ever been concealing how he’d felt about you. So many things made more sense. The knight finding it so funny in the past, different Tenebraen nobles sending you scathing insults about it, and Ignis’ initial adamancy that you’d been in a romantic relationship with Ravus long before it actually happened.

Dispelling those thoughts, your mind returned to the present, Ravus’ words registering completely. You sent him a reproachful look, hands splaying out along the piano keys, but not pressing down. “Saying I’m not clever?”

Following your motion, he didn’t respond but set you off on one of the longer duets you knew. You scooted closer, leg going flush to his, and worked in time with him with fluid, comfortable familiarity. His hand brushed yours unnecessarily, fingertips across your knuckles that made you blush. They weren’t uncommon, these tiny peeks at what you thought could be a very secret playful side to him.

When he did it again, you faltered in your motions, fingers striking the wrong notes. Lifting your hands, you elbowed him, but he paid no mind, finishing a chord before abruptly ending the song to gaze at you. “Having difficulty focusing?”

You huffed at him, ignoring his question by returning your hands to the piano. Like you’d practiced dozens of times, you began a rendition of the chocobo song. You’d learned, through trial and error, that Ravus absolutely hated it. What he found annoying wasn’t the song itself but the fact that you would only play the main melody on repeat at increasingly faster measures.

You were disrupted on the third round by his hands coming down on yours, a brief cacophony of noise as you mashed keys. When you turned toward him, a laugh ready to fall from your mouth, you were quieted by a kiss.

He’d learned in your time together so far, that you always fell for this move. The time you’d fussed at him over the bed he’d bought, when you’d gushed for just _too_ long about Prompto doing well at the first official meeting with Gladio’s family, and the moment Ravus realized you were a terrible singer— a silencing kiss had been his tactic at hushing you.

So, of course, that only led you to speak up even more. Because if there was anything you were learning about yourself for certain in this whole “spiritual growth for the sake of keeping it in your pants” thing, it was that you _needed_ Ravus’ mouth on you.

His lips parted yours, prying at them in forceful movements as he tilted his head and gripped your squirming hands more firmly. The piano clanged with every movement, and his tongue made delicious sweeps of your mouth. You leaned into it, a laugh building in your chest at how light he made you feel.

The sound of the heavy parlor doors opening startled you. Ravus broke the kiss to look back, his hands leaving yours. Within a second, he was merely at your side, not looking suspect of your actions whatsoever.

You dropped your hands from the piano, clearing your throat and wondering how he could switch so flawlessly like that. His aversion to public displays was unsurprising, but you found it at odds with the whole _sweetheart_ thing. If he wasn’t afraid to let everyone and their chocobo think you were his lover, why was it impossible for him to just kiss you in front of others?

Looking over your shoulders, you saw the knight looking between you. She’d almost caught you in compromising positions more than a person should, and you both suspected she was trying to find proof that you and Ravus were up to no good when alone. Because she found it hard to believe that Ravus could actually be _involved_ with someone.

“The guests have arrived,” she said, her careful gaze giving out to excitement for a moment. Then it was back to the stoicism you knew she was trying especially hard to replicate from Ravus.

As you followed him out of the music parlor, you straightened your robes for the hundredth time that day. They weren’t constricting or uncomfortable, but you were all nerves about Mom seeing you in them. The thought that she had come for the festival at all had you in a flurry of nervous excitement.

“Seeing as you haven’t been preparing for this,” Ravus said, giving you side eye as you traversed through the halls. “Bear in mind the basics of common courtesy and follow my lead.”

You nodded. “Gotcha.”

Why this was such a big deal you couldn’t understand, but shrugged it off as the usual royalty nonsense. The walk across the castle was pleasant; you had a bit of a bounce in your step, reeling with anticipation at seeing Mom and your friends.

The lingering sugary taste of the pastry Ravus had eaten after lunch was still in your mouth. Chewing your lip as you grew closer to where the arrivals waited, you stamped down on the surge of affection that came with the thought. For someone who seemed so sour, Ravus’ kisses were obscenely sweet.

—

The throne room, given that you’d only been so lucky to visit it on the rare occasion, brought an overwhelming sense of peacefulness to you. Billowing ivory curtains drawn back from large windows to let in the afternoon sun and reveal the view of early fall painting the surrounding mountainous landscape in warm colors. It was such a contrast to the interior of the room, bright whites, soft blues, and star motifs in silver on everything from the high domed ceiling to the throne itself.

The Oracle was already greeting everyone by the time you stopped next to Ravus at the bottom of the dais where everyone had crowded. All the familiar faces had your excitement building further. You waved at Prompto, dropping your hand when the Oracle parted with Mom. She seemed a bit dazed —Mom, that was— and turned away from the queen with a small blush on her face.

You fought a laugh as you immediately broke whatever protocol there was by pulling her into a hug. She returned it with a silent laugh of her own. When you let go, she signed, _You look beautiful._ One of her hands gently touched the Oracle crest on the chest of your attire before she lifted it to straighten out a lock of your hair with her fingers.

Alright! _That_ was enough, you thought. Stepping back, you looked at the others to make sure no one noticed how embarrassing she was being. Thankfully, it seemed like the rest of the greeting committee was in full swing, none the wiser.

You went to Ravus’ side, following his lead like he’d said by holding out your hand for Gladio to shake. He took it, bending a little, and when it became apparent that the big guy was about to kiss your hand, you jerked it away. With a look at you, Gladio laughed and righted himself.

“Dude,” you grumbled in distaste, rubbing the back of your hand against your robes despite the fact that his lips hadn’t actually touched your skin at all.

“You’re in the getup, but it looks like they haven't brainwashed you yet,” Gladio said, quieting his laugh. You rose a brow, but had to let it go because you had to keep up with Ravus. He was already at the end of the line, nodding to Prompto who bowed awkwardly.

Ravus looked at you then, sighing when you punched Noctis on the shoulder for commenting on your robes. You’d never liked pleasantries, and you felt a prickle of irritation stain your excitement every time Ravus sent you a disapproving look. They were subtle, barely a change in his expression, but you _knew._

All greetings were simple, even the one you shared with Ignis. You’d lost touch with him about a month after you’d moved. Your life had grown busy, and it wasn’t like he didn’t already have his own fully packed schedule. You smiled at him, glad to see that he was looking so much better than he had in such a long time. No more gaunt cheeks, no dark circles or ill-fitting clothes.

Successfully getting through all of that had you leading Mom and Prompto out to the stables the moment the Oracle finished welcoming them. Because priorities. You’d told them about Moonbeam for almost two years now, and he felt like the closest thing to a kid you’d ever have. You rambled at both of them as you passed around greens to feed the spoiled bird, feeling something so _right_ about having them with you while on the property.

—

By dinnertime Aranea had finally shown up, and though you could’ve done without the mass of minor nobility that had come from the areas surrounding Zoldara Henge, you felt overwhelmingly happy that everyone you considered family was eating around the same table. This kind of thing only happened at weddings or funerals.

You sat between Mom and Gladio, Ravus feeling miles away across the table. He hadn’t said much to you since everyone had arrived so you kept sending him smiles and glances that he would meet with a disinterested stare. He seemed to occupy most of his time talking to Luna or Aranea, which was fair. He saw you all the time so you expected he wouldn’t be spending much of the festival by your side.

Next to you, Mom was full on turned with her back toward you as she held a conversation with Ignis on her other side. Ignis chuckled at something she said, and you chewed slowly, watching the exchange and wishing you could see her hands. This was so much like they’d behaved during the winter holiday. Since when had they become such good friends?

Looking away because, although uncool, their evident friendship wasn’t _that_ weird, you shot another look at Ravus. It went unnoticed, his attention entirely focused on the conversation between Mom and Ignis you’d been trying to watch before. Ravus’ eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed as he watched them laugh. Then, as if snapping out of whatever thoughts he had, he averted his gaze, eyes blinking and mouth pulling into a sharper frown.

That wouldn’t do.

“Papa-gâteau, smile!” you called, lifting your fork to wave it at him.

The table fell into a silence at your raised voice. Sitting in the place next to him, Luna began to laugh, a hand coming up to her mouth to quiet it. Ravus sighed and sent you a flat look.

Undaunted by this, you pursed your lips into a soft kissing noise, winking at him. As a few more chuckles could be heard around the table, notably Gladio who slightly elbowed you, Ravus’ expression only grew more stern. He tilted his head, nodding toward the large doors to the corridor. You understood the gesture, your amusement dissipating as you pushed back your chair.

You knew you’d been pushing it, getting the welcoming party wrong, ditching him to show off the manor to Mom and Prompto without permission from anyone who actually lived there, and now bringing unnecessary attention to him.

Preparing yourself for a reprimand about being disrespectful, you were nearly taken aback when he drew you to him in a hug as soon as you were down the corridor far enough that no one could see. Your arms hang loosely for a second, then you leaned into him, catching a grip on his robes.

“You haven’t a care,” he grumbled, his voice low against your hair. “You didn’t read the texts and won’t even follow simple manners.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Even if you’d been paying attention to your incoming mail, it was likely you wouldn’t have read or followed the rules you were apparently supposed to know now that you were with Ravus. It wasn’t in you to just submit to the whims of others or fit into a nicely defined box, and he knew that.

He let go, stepping back to look down at you. His expression wasn’t as stern as before, his eyes softer in their rake over your face. “It’s unfitting behavior for someone who will one day—”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear it. You’d been together for six months. Maybe to the royals, who really rushed things way too much if Noct’s wedding at twenty one was anything to go by, six months was a long time to be dating someone. But you hadn’t even slept with Ravus yet. Hearing about what could happen in the _distant_ future wasn’t something you wanted to deal with.

“My unexalted existence is totally _fine_ with me,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’ll try to be more respectful about certain things, but I’m not changing myself.”

He stared down at you, one beat falling into the next in silence. Then he reached up, taking your face in his hands to press a kiss to your forehead. You startled, totally prepared for an argument. Your arms fell loose to your sides, and when he leaned back to meet your eyes, you felt affection bloom wildly in your chest.

His smile was soft, barely there. That was more like it, you thought. Lifting up on your tiptoes, you made sure he didn’t return to dinner without first being thoroughly kissed.

Mom sent you a questioning glance when you retook your seat, and you waved her off. _Private moment,_ you signed. _Just a talk._

When you looked at Ravus, he was frowning again, at you this time as your hands made the practiced signs. You bit your lip, finally understanding what it was that bothered him. It hadn’t occurred to you until now that he’d never had a full conversation with Mom before.

Returning your attention to Mom, you halted those thoughts at her smile. Oh, no. She was smug, her expression knowing. Your face grew warm, and you dug into your food to avoid further discussion. Your relationship was _not_ a topic you wanted to breach yet. You still didn’t know exactly where you stood, only that you were apparently doing a rough job at it so far.

—

Meditation and balance were the goals for the day. Since you were a self-proclaimed pro at yoga now, you went to the training rooms to do that directly after breakfast. Ravus, after a bit of prompting, had joined you.

His plain t-shirt and loose-fitting yoga pants were such a fucking treat, but you could never let him know that. It was done with an underlying fear that he’d realize just how much of a show he was putting on for you. Losing yoga as one of the _totally legitimate anti-sex projects_ was unacceptable.

Feet planted widely apart on one of the large training mats, you bent at the waist and clasped your hands behind your back to stretch the muscles of your arms. Looking between your legs, you found Ravus stretching in the morning sunlight by one of the large windows behind you. His eyes traced the lines of your body without shame. No one else was around, a surprising thing considering the festival was now in full swing. You weren’t about to complain, though.

“Hi.” You smiled at him through the window of your legs.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes pinching closed for a moment. You delighted in his discomfort, hoping that every small instance was growing closer to the moment he would put his hands on the parts of you he was finally now letting his eyes roam. Opening his eyes, he put on a serious face and walked toward you. “Remember to breathe.”

Was he telling you or himself that? A laugh shook you a little, your stance remaining steady from practice. Slowly, you righted yourself and swayed your arms with loosening motions. You stopped when Ravus came to your side, running fingers through his hair to pull it back.

“Help me with this one?” you asked, looking up at him as you moved into another pose.

Hands on your thighs, you bent forward at the waist again and slid your palms down to your knees. Your eyes remained on his, your head tilted up at him awkwardly. You didn’t need the help, and he knew that. Still, the flat of his hand came to rest at the small of your back, moving along your spine to your shoulders.

“Straighten your back.”

You listened, rolling your shoulders and adjusting yourself. Bending forward even more, you let go of a leg to slowly lift it behind yourself for a standing split. This was something you _did_ need help with. Bracing one hand on the mat, the other gripping at your ankle, you shook a little while trying to maintain balance and lift your leg higher.

Ravus touched the inner thigh of your lifted leg, and your breath hitched. His hand at your back remained steady, his other traveling up the length of your leg slowly. The touch thrilled you. Fingertips skating over the tight fabric of your shorts and the skin of your leg felt like tingles of electricity.

He stood behind you, holding your ankle in a way that had your leg burning with how far he was extending the stretch. You could feel the whole of him against you, steadying you as your muscles began to ache. Trying to hold it for as long as possible —not very long as you’d never stretched quite this far— you forced out even breaths.

You tried in vain to not think about how incredible it would be if he just _let himself go_ and took you this way. If there weren’t layers of clothes between you, even as thin as they were, he would’ve been perfectly lined up to—

Your knee buckled under the strain, and you jerked upward to stabilize yourself. Ravus let your leg go to catch you at the waist before you collapsed. It wasn’t like the tumble would’ve been bad with the mat beneath you. It was an excuse, all of this, to put your hands on each other while pretending it was nothing more. You were definitely getting close to losing yoga as a legitimate way to get your mind off of sex. Probably because it did anything but.

Bent over you slightly, he held you close to his chest, which rocked with soft breaths that fell against your hair. Flush against him, you swallowed at the shift of him has he righted you but didn’t let go.

When he spoke, it was a whisper. “Alright there?”

You nodded, bringing your hands up to his forearms at your middle. He began to loosen his hold, but you stilled him by gripping his wrists, keeping his arms against you.

“Please,” you breathed. “Just for a moment.”

His arms tightened around you for a bit longer. The muscles you’d stretched in your legs burned almost as strongly as your back that pressed against him. With your hair pulled back out of your face, it was easy for him to lean into you _just so_ that his mouth brushed the top of your ear.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “I want this, too.”

Your heart picked up its paces. You wanted to turn in his arms to face him, but he held you in place. You whined a little, wishing he’d let you see his face. He wasn’t aroused, you would’ve felt it at your back. But that could’ve been amended in no time.

You closed your eyes, fighting that thought. Picking your battles was important. You wanted to sleep with him, not push him away entirely. Counting down the gods by name, you opened your eyes at Bahamut and finally let him draw away from you.

His face was stern but a soft shade of pink when you turned around. So stark against his pale skin and striking features, you were always taken by it when he blushed. You reached for his hand, but yanked yours back when the doors to the training room burst open. The knight looked between you as she held the door open for a few guests.

Gladio was among them, working a muscle in his shoulder as he walked toward you. His gaze, much like the knight’s, traveled between you and Ravus curiously, landing on you when he stopped a few feet away. “You’re wearing _that_ in a castle as cold as this?”

You looked down at your shorts and the top that you were pretty sure you’d stolen from Prompto during your time traveling together. With a huff of laughter, you said, “You, of all people, know the rules: sun’s out, guns out.” You looked up at him, slapping a leg lightly. “Sky’s out, thighs out.”

Ravus’ gaze was boring into you; you could sense it without looking at him. The stupid rhyme was probably against the rules. Future duchesses weren’t supposed to slap their thighs, probably. You resisted the urge to do it again.

Gladio offered you a grin, rolling his shoulders and not commenting further. Instead, he turned to Ravus. “Up for a spar, your highness?” It was a clearly a challenge, a hard tone added to the honorific.

Other people had already begun training exercises, making use of the dummies and the practice swords that hang from a rack near one of the far walls. Ravus nodded curtly, and you grinned. Watching them fight was suddenly all you wanted to see. Two large men going at it hard on a training mat —something you _may_ have seen before in a very different context— sounded like a great morning to you.

As Ravus walked toward the training swords, Gladio snapped his fingers. “Oh, right. Iggy wanted to talk to you. Said he was waiting in the gardens.”

That was kind of weird, but okay. You shook off the residual feelings of excitement at being pressed against Ravus and made your way to the doors, being sure to obnoxiously wave goodbye to the prince with both hands. He didn’t return the gesture, but the eyeroll he gave held just the same meaning, coming from him.

—

Ignis sat on the edge of the fountain in Ravus’ personal garden. His legs were crossed, and he seemed all seriousness. Until he looked up, a little smile growing on his face that dashed that image away. You’d changed into something decent before meeting with him since it was just chilly enough to need warmer clothes despite the sunny weather.

The usual winds that breezed through the mountains tousled your hair, loosened since your time in the training rooms. You smoothed it down as best you could as you sat next to Ignis, the stone of the fountain edge warm on your bottom thanks to the cloudless day and the blazing sun.

“What’s up?” You wanted to skip the pleasantries, as always. Just get right to it, you thought. If you _were_ going to be a duchess one day, might as well stick to a few of your pet peeves and remove them from standard practice.

Ignis uncrossed his legs, turning to you with his unfettered smile. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

Okay, so you _weren’t_ getting past the peasantries. That was fine. “I’m cool, dude. What’s up?” You repeated it pointely, hoping he understood how annoying this was. You hadn’t spoken in months, but he’d called you out here just to chat? You no longer thought of your friendship as anything special just because of your past. Ignis fluctuated too drastically for you; it was impossible to know just what was going on with him.

“Today is about finding my balance.” He adjusted his glasses before looking at you. “I could think of little else aside from you.”

Blinking at his statement, you frowned. That was definitely the meaning behind this day in the festival, but you didn’t even begin to understand why he thought of _you_ in that context. You hadn’t so much as spoken to each other in five months. To someone with as busy a life as yours, that felt like a lifetime ago. You’d assumed Ignis felt the same.

A muted chime emitted from his pocket before he could say anything more. You watched as he withdrew his phone, his smile waning into a flat line. As he typed a response, you noticed something different about his gloveless hand. Something shiny and golden on his ring finger.

“You’re married?” you blurted, eyes shifting up to his face.

Ignis put away his phone and smiled again, enough to see a flash of teeth before he schooled it into something softer. “Yes, I’m a kept man.”

Life came to a crawling stop, and you stared at him. “Since when?”

Brows arching perfectly over his glasses, he seemed to think for a second. “Five months. We eloped and only announced it last week.”

Five months? He’d been married for almost your entire absence. It made sense why no one ever told you, but for Ignis to just rush into a decision like this seemed odd for him. Looking at the ring again, you found him idly twisting it on his finger with a small smile.

His apparent happiness made you soften. Ignis was predisposed to being a great husband. He knew how to dote and enjoyed it. It was incredibly surreal, though, to find out the person you used to consider your _be all, end all_ had made such a drastic change in his life.

This was what he’d called you out here for. In the growing distance between you, he’d become someone new. No wonder he’d lost contact with you; his life must’ve been busier than ever with his usual duties and an added marriage. You’d spent so much time talking trash about his _wife_ before leaving, you realized with mild guilt. This must’ve been his attempt to close the gap.

“Congrats, dude,” you said as you reached out, putting a hand over Ignis’ and squeezing.

He froze at the contact, and you awkwardly withdrew your hand. Yeah, okay. So this situation was still kind of weird to you, but you ignored the feeling in hopes that you could just be happy for him.

—

A very believable pretext for holding Ravus’ hand was having him lead you through the festival grounds. If only he would actually _let_ you hold his hand. Instead you settled for leading him from one honor table to another in a squall of uncontainable enthusiasm. Each one seemed to hold a different theme, and you were fascinated with all of them.

“ _What are you honoring_?” you asked a man as you stopped at his table next. He looked immediately nervous, his eyes moving from you to Ravus at your side.

 

“ _Fertility_ ,” he said, sputtering a little when you picked up a pear from the beautiful mess of things on his table. “ _That is a symbol for affection. The peaches are for longevity, and the grapes are for fertility itself._ ”

You showed the pear to Ravus. It was totally ordinary, and his look was completely flat. Placing it back on the table, you dug into a pocket for a few gil that you placed among the random coins the man had put down on a corner of his display. You really hoped it wasn’t rude of you.

“ _This will be your year, sir_ ,” you said, giving him your most encouraging smile. “ _Keep doing your best_.”

He blinked, looking down at the gil, then up at you in astonishment. Just in case you _were_ being rude, you move along so you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of making someone uncomfortable.

“Are you certain that’s wise, ma crevette?” Ravus sounded almost amused, but you could see no indication on his face. “Donating to a table honoring fertility?”

You shrugged, stopping at another to look at the finely woven crafts. If you were lucky, you’d find another bracelet, preferably one you could buy for Ravus. “I’ve donated to everybody. Why should he be different?”

Ravus sighed but offered no answer. You were only bolstering his image, you thought. He could scowl all he wanted, but if everyone thought of him as a generous person —which you personally considered him to be— then his approval rating would skyrocket. Not that you knew exactly what Tenebrae thought of him in general. You didn’t have a clue.

When you reached the end of the honor tables and the beginning of the carnival booths, you spotted Prompto at one of the stalls. He waved you over, grinning when you came to a stop next to him.

“Dude, play this game with me.”

You examined the booth, taking in the background of various cactuars with little target symbols over their middles. Your assumption was that they flipped over in a certain order for you to shoot them with the little airsoft gun provided by the booth itself.

“You want me to shoot cactuars?” you asked with exaggerated sorrow. “How cruel.”

Prompto snickered as you handed over a few gil to the proprietor for a chance to win and picked up one of the pistols. Knowing you were no match for Prompto, you just tried your best when shooting the targets, swearing loudly each time he beat you to a kill. By the end, he’d garnered more than half the points and got to choose a prize while you had to stand there and eat shit in the face of his _greatness._

“You know how to operate a firearm.”

Putting the airsoft gun down, you turned around to give Ravus a wide eyed look. You’d forgotten he was standing there in your fun with Prompto. He was giving you a curious tilt of his head, looking at you as if carefully analyzing.

“You knew that,” you said, shrugging. You’d shot a man the same weekend you’d met Ravus.

Ravus stared. “Not that you could wield it properly.”

Prompto turned toward you with a small cactuar plush. He waved it in your face, then laughed when you knocked it away. “Dude, she’s _great._ You should’ve seen her when we were traveling. She almost never missed and always kept hers maintained. Like _nobody_ is that strict about it.”

You wished he would shut up. Personally owning an actual gun wasn’t legal in Tenebrae, and you didn’t want to find yourself knee deep in shit just because you didn’t want to part with yours for sentimental reasons. It had kept you safe countless times when scaring off behemoths and gigantoads that wanted to fuck you up in the wilds of Lucis.

“Anyway,” you said, dragging out the end of the word. “Wanna play a different game with me, papa-gâteau?”

Ravus was still staring at you, not answering your question or even acknowledging that you’d asked it. Prompto snickered again, knocking you with his shoulder as he passed. “I think he’s trying to process how much more he likes you now.”

He’d kept his voice low, forever intimidated by the older man, but the way Ravus suddenly looked off, eyes roaming away from you, told you Prompto hadn’t been quiet enough.

“Am I doing another bad?” you asked, shifting from foot to foot. “Just tell me.”

Ravus met your eyes again, shaking his head. All he had to say was, “You’re full of surprises.” Then he carried himself further down the festival grounds.

You spent the rest of the afternoon attempting to win him things, hoping that the ever present frown on his face would disappear.

—

Mom took tea with the Oracle after dinner while all of the other personal guests, yourself included, pooled into a parlor just big enough for your party of friends. Ravus drew the curtains closed, the sun having set while you’d been at dinner. Luna set to work on the fireplace, and you smiled between them at doing things themselves that you knew they could have the castle staff do if they really wanted.

“Ma crevette, give Luna a hand.” Ravus stepped behind a bar, lifting out crystal glasses and placing them on the bar top. 

Gladio grunted and stepped toward the fireplace. “I’ve got it.”

“No, it’s fine,” you rushed ahead of him. You did this all the time. You’d had to learn how to properly light it because you’d often find yourself in Ravus’ bedchambers before he arrived and wanted to make it warm without calling any staff in. Because doing that would make it very clear that you were sleeping in his bed, which was something you’d both wished to keep on the low.

You were certain the guards have known since the first night of your return, but they weren’t betraying any trust or acting oddly. So you let it go to professionalism.

“You sure, juicy?” Gladio still seemed into helping. They all did. Ignis began handing off the glasses of whatever Ravus was pouring while Prompto and Noctis shifted the coffee table and chairs into a better place for everyone to sit together.

Ravus spoke up with a shake of his head. “She’s perfectly capable, Amicitia. She’s surprisingly skilled at handling fatwood.”

Gladio grinned down at you as Luna helped you bring the hearth to life. “That’s surprising?”

Ravus didn’t seem to catch on to the other man’s amusement. “Her small hands have decent strength.”

“Thanks, papa-gâteau,” you said flatly. “It means so much.”

Gladio huffed a small chuckle, turning to Ravus. “Started her training yet?”

A proper fire began, and you held up a hand that Luna high fived when she realized that’s what you were waiting for. With a look over your shoulder at the others, you whispered to her, “Training?”

She smiled and nodded. “To be done before your commencement.”

Well, _that_ was sure to give you a wave of nightmares for a while. So far your subconscious had only thrown one dream at you that involved being trapped in a room with a single oil painting of yourself. You’d looked perfectly happy in the brushstrokes but felt no happiness within yourself. Below the painting had read a simple plaque _Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Tenebrae._ How exactly could any amount of training prepare you for that mouthful?

And for Luna to just talk about your commencement as if it were already set was just a little dismaying. You knew because of your own personal interest in the matter that the Oracle would have to confer you with the title of duchess before marriage could even be considered. And to be a duchess, apparently you needed to read a lot of texts and undergo training.

Before you could ask just what kind of training it would be —Luna was going to be an invaluable source of support and information— you heard Gladio say a quiet thanks and looked back again to see him take a drink while Ravus spoke.

“We haven’t begun yet,” he said, pouring something into a glass for himself. “Her career takes priority. I’ll have her handling a sword with proper strokes when she’s ready.”

Gladio laughed, Prompto joining in with an obnoxious grin toward you. Astrals, Ravus had to be doing this on purpose. You couldn’t get quite annoyed enough at the double entendre because the fact that they were referencing actual combat training came as a surprise to you. You’d expected… having to walk with a book on your head to gain a ladylike balance or something.

“It’s not easy training her,” Gladio said. It was annoying that they kept talking about you like you weren’t right there.

“I wasn’t aware you’d undertaken the task before.”

You sat next to Luna at one of the couches, eavesdropping because this had to be the most you’d ever seen Gladio and Ravus speak to each other. Ignis handed you a glass of water before taking a nearby chair. You mumbled a thanks, holding it with both hands as you kept most of your attention on the conversation.

“It’s been a hot minute, but I remember her getting pretty distracted sometimes.” Gladio looked at you from across the room, and you glared. He wasn’t going to bring up the _one time_ you’d come onto him, was he? You’d been desperate to get laid back then.

“Are we gonna play a game or what?” you loudly asked, wanting to disrupt their conversation. Again, did they _not_ care that you were in the room?

—

None of you could agree on a game so you ended up sitting around the parlor catching up instead. Ravus sat silently on the other side of the large coffee table, eyes flitting from one person to the next depending on who spoke. You wanted to be by his side but knew you’d have to wait until you were in his rooms to be close.

Ruminating on both that and the new thoughts of your supposed training, you were slightly startled when Ignis reached across the short distance between you to take the cup from your hand.

“Allow me to get you more,” he said, taking the glass and standing.

You nodded, getting up and following him to the bar. This was the parlor you’d learned Ravus entertained dignitaries, different from the one you’d usually take tea with him in on silent days and different still from the one where you’d play piano together. There were so many rooms you still hadn’t been let into in the manor, but you were getting more familiar each visit. You didn’t actively think of it as home, but the feeling was there regardless.

Stepping behind the bar, Ignis said, “There’s juice, if you’d like that instead.”

“What kind?” You leaned on the bar top, tapping your fingers in a smooth, even rhythm. Maybe you were a _little_ impatient to get to Ravus’ quarters. He hadn’t let you hold his hand, and he’d not stolen a single kiss in private all day. You fought the urge to look at him over your shoulder. Let him enjoy time with his sister, you told yourself.

Ignis lifted a chilled decanter from the small refrigerator behind the bar. It was full of a red liquid that you were familiar with. “Tomato. I could make you a virgin.”

You shrugged. “Sure, go for it.”

Ignis nodded, a smile coming to him as he began to use what he found behind the bar to put the drink together. He squeezed a slice of lemon into a shaker of ice and said, “Prompto told me you work on the Tenebraen drama about teenage vampires.”

Holding back a snort, you said, “Yeah. Half the budget goes to fake blood, and most of the actors look way too old to be teens.”

He chuckled, shaking all of the ingredients together before pouring it into your glass. “You seem happy here.”

Picking up the glass, you couldn’t be sure if that was genuine or meant to be a slight. Ignis, as readable as you often found him, was giving you nothing in his expression but a soft smile. It was the look he’d held through most of his time during the festival, you’d noticed. It was like he had a secret that no one else knew.

“What about you?” You sipped from the drink as he poured himself another glass of cognac, taking it neat. “Are you happy?”

“I am,” he said in a lowered voice before taking a drink. “Do you remember what you told me the day you left, about high risk and high payout?”

You vaguely remembered that conversation, nodding.

Ignis leaned casually on the bar, getting closer because his voice remained quiet. “Do you still think it’s true?”

Was he asking you if you thought moving to Tenebrae was worth it, or was he asking for advice on his own high risk move? Either way, you nodded again.

Your mental image of Ignis in the last couple of days had entirely shifted because of his marriage. Part of you wanted to shy away from him because it only added to the things you didn’t have in common anymore, but another part wanted to use what friendship you had left to support the hell out of him. He was still one of the best friends you’d ever had, and somewhere deep inside, you would always care about him for that.

—

Ravus gave your drink a wary look on your way back to the others, and you stopped by his chair to lower the cup toward him.

“It’s mostly tomato juice, if you’re interested,” you said, smiling at the way his lip curled in distaste. Astrals, you wanted to kiss it right off him.

Instead, you drank from your cup and went back to your spot next to Luna. The night went smoothly for the most part, Ignis telling you about a recent development with his county, Luna answering the odd questions that came to you about the training you should’ve expected, and Prompto suggesting multiple times that music be played.

You kept sending glances to Ravus who seemed to draw further into himself as the night went on. Every time you smiled or playfully gestured at him, he responded by furrowing his brow more and taking another drink from his glass.

What had begun as impatience became worry. But by the end of the night, getting next to nothing from the man, it devolved into irritation.

—

Waking in your guest rooms because Ravus hadn’t let you into his the night before, you were already starting the day off on a sour note. Childishly, you began your retaliation by not speaking to Ravus during breakfast. Which he didn’t seem to notice, given that he didn’t often speak himself.

Thankfully, occupying yourself wasn’t difficult with so many people in the manor. You took your fancy camera outside and snapped photos of everyone and everything throughout the morning, all the while ignoring Ravus. The day moved by at the slowest crawl as you waited for him to approach you. By afternoon tea, you began to realize that he wasn’t bothered by your cold shoulder one bit.

Ignis found you holing away in the music room, separate from everyone else. You’d come after teatime to play a song in hopes of cheering yourself up or, at the very least, getting your mind off of Ravus. Instead, you’d become preoccupied with going through all of the photos on your camera. You hadn’t gotten close to filling up the memory, yet there were countless pictures spanning back months of time.

He took a seat next to you on the couch, disturbing the peaceful silence with a light chuckle. “Feeling rather reclusive today?”

With legs drawn up, camera on your knees, you felt oddly vulnerable. Ravus had never just cut you off, not since you’d rearranged parts of your lives to be together and not to this extent. You couldn’t help but wish he had been the one to seek you out rather than Ignis.

“Just looking for some quiet,” you said, tilting your camera toward him so he could see the display. “Going through pictures.”

He shifted closer, an appraising gaze pouring over each photo you showed him.

“That one is impressive,” he said when you stopped on one of your prouder pieces.

You were no Prompto, but you’d captured an especially beautiful shot of the sunrise as it crested the mountain. Taken a few months before, it had been on a morning walk with Ravus. He’d lifted you up onto his back for a slightly better angle because your original subject had been a bird that was nesting on one of the arching arbors outside the gardens.

Looking at the picture made you feel warm, like you were right there with Ravus, laughing into his neck and answering his grumbling with whispered promises of braiding his hair if he carried you all the way to the dining room.

“Yeah,” was all you said to Ignis, smiling at the snapshot for a moment longer before moving on.

The next one Ignis commented on was a wide shot of the quaint little neighborhood you lived in. You pointed out where your apartment was and told him a few things you’d witnessed while people watching from your window.

“Do you not have any of Ravus?”

Looking up from the camera, you lulled before laughing. “He’s not wild about pictures; he’s so _difficult._ ” You flipped through the photos in search of one you’d gotten of Ravus giving you a beautifully bewildered expression and asked, “Since I’ve prattled on about my life for like an hour now, how’s yours? Is marriage as fun as it sounds?”

Ignis took a breath. “It’s a tricky thing to maneuver. None of my studies could’ve prepared me. Quite ironic as I’d had enough hubris to think myself more than capable of handling a basic contract between myself and another.”

Your fingers on the camera stilled, and you gave him a side glance. His tone had slowly shifted with each word, ending on a note that sounded almost bitter. His word choice was also interesting. Marriage _was_ a contract, but for someone like Ignis, the person who’d taught you how to appreciate romance, to say it with such distaste was no small thing.

“Is that why she’s not here?” You were learning how to be more blunt, especially when it came to things that were important, like your friends. You should’ve known it was unreasonable to expect Ignis could have suddenly fixed his relationship. You’d only made the assumption because he was married and looked much healthier.

“She wasn’t invited,” he said coolly. “Lord Ravus only extended an invitation to Prompto and your mother.”

Furrowing your brow, you turned that over in your mind. That hadn’t been something you were aware of, invitations as a requirement to be welcomed into the castle. By his expression, he didn’t seem all that bothered by his wife’s absence.

You chewed on your inner lip, understanding Ignis less now than you ever had before.

He twisted the wedding band around his finger, smiling a little when he looked your way. “You once asked if I could play an instrument. Would you care for a belated demonstration?”

You stopped chewing your lip and nodded. If he didn’t want to talk about himself yet, that was fine. You weren’t sure you could keep your opinions quiet if he did and didn’t want to ruin what semblance of a friendship you still had.

Back straight, bow in hand, Ignis played the cello as if he’d done it every day of his life, something you knew to be entirely false. The wafting sound of it filled the music parlor in heavy tones, his face conveying the weightiness of the song with a somber expression. You felt like he wasn’t aware of that, and it compelled you to take a picture of him. The snap of the camera made him glance your way for a second, the barest of smirks coming to his face.

Listening to the rest of the song and ignoring his occasional curious glance your way, you examined the candid shot on the camera’s display. You’d long given up worrying about Ignis when he’d never let you help him anyway. But it was disheartening to see that, even when he’d returned to looking his best, he was still as troubled as you’d last seen him.

—

You frowned at your reflection in the tall mirror, straightening your satin slip and poking at the pins in your hair. You paced your guest quarters, sending annoyed glances at the gown you’d gotten just for the stupid ball that was beginning in half an hour. You eyed the black chiffon and shimmering velvet, debating on whether or not you should even go.

Mom stepped out of your washroom, smacking your hand that kept messing with the pins that held your hair in tight twists. _Let it sit._

You were ready to tell her that you had absolutely no intention of going to the ball. You were going to hang out in your room, order food to be delivered by the staff, and stew in your _angry girlfriend_ state. But the door to your rooms opened, Luna stepping in without announcement. Her dress was lacy and black, a surprising contrast to her usual. A small mask hang from where it had been tied by its ribbons at her wrist.

“Good evening,” she greeted, shutting the door. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Mom shook her head, waving Luna in with a welcoming smile. You let your sour expression wane, unable to be entirely upset in her presence. Like the Oracle, Luna just seemed to have that effect.

Taking the dress down, you began to slip into it, careful in the process so that your slip didn’t bunch underneath. Mom helped you while Luna sat in a chair and watched with apparent amusement.

“I noticed my brother behaving strangely today,” she said, crossing one leg over the other, her hands coming to her knee. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” You’d been looking at each other in the mirror, and this question had you looking over your shoulder at her directly. “I’m fine.”

You could see Luna’s eyes dance with untold thoughts, even with the short distance between you. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly not speaking to one another. Just know that I will listen. Perhaps I could help.”

Facing forward again, you caught the smile on Mom’s face at Luna’s offer. This… made you uncomfortable. It was a place of discomfort you knew very well, one where you had to just _live_ with the fact that there were people who gave a shit about you. But that never made it easier to process.

You were, really and truly, not going to talk about your relationship issues with Luna. Telling her he wouldn’t sleep with you was out of the question, and everything else that was currently happening was too petty.

It was nice to know, though, that you could add Luna to the list of people you could count on.

—

Dancing with everyone except Ravus, you carried out your annoyance by making sure he was fully aware of just how much fun you were having. Only playing this kind of game wasn’t all that fun. You knew the right way to handle this would be to talk with him about your frustration.

On your way toward him, fully prepared to throw down, you were intercepted by a tall, lithe form in black. Ignis didn’t wear a mask like everyone else, his spectacles a hindrance in that part of the costume. He still looked as incredible as ever in formalwear, offering a hand out to you. “Care for a dance?”

What you wanted was to argue with Ravus so you could get over your frustration, but said prince was currently dancing with Aranea. So you nodded, took Ignis’ hand, and let him lead you around the dance floor. One song became two, and by the third, you noticed Ravus dancing with Luna next. It seemed as if he was keeping himself just as occupied, and you hated that. You hated not knowing what exactly you’d suddenly done for him to keep such a distance and refuse to meet with you in private.

As Ignis turned you in a smooth circle, definitely monopolizing your time as you were going on seven songs now, you heard the familiar beginning of the next tune. It brought your attention to the piano where Ravus sat. With closed eyes and deft hands, he played the ballad you loved.

“Seriously?” you mumbled, struck between annoyed and touched. Looking up at Ignis, you frowned. “He’s playing without me. We were supposed to duet.”

Ignis’ gaze went to Ravus as you spun. “Is he always so peculiar?”

You brushed off the question, letting the notes weave around you. It was such a beautiful song, evoking strong emotions of contentment that you fought because you were supposed to be annoyed. When the piece ended, people clapped, but you kept turning tight circles with Ignis, going over the same round of worries that had been circling your mind all day.

Were you pushing Ravus away by not following the rules of social interaction like he’d asked? He _knew_ you didn’t know exactly what was expected of you. Was it so bad that you wanted to be close to him in public?

You were so deep into your thoughts that you hadn’t realized you’d left the ballroom until you were walking down the corridor, your hand in Ignis’. It registered late that he’d said something that went right over your head before taking you away from the party. Stopping abruptly, you pulled your hand from his. “Iggy, where are we going?”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, hesitant almost in the way that he looked at you. “I wanted to speak with you in private.”

Oh, right. That’s what he’d said. Right, yes. Your thoughts were too muddled with Ravus, but you repressed those to give Ignis a smile. If he needed privacy to feel comfortable sharing more about his life with you, you were all for it. “Okay, lead the way, dude.”

He took you to the music parlor. You didn’t think it was intentional, just that he’d chosen the closest place with any semblance of privacy. Tenebraen nobles had watched you walk through the manor together so it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for the both of you.

You immediately took off your mask and walked toward the piano, wanting to show off a song or two you’d learned, the desire especially prominent after Ravus had snubbed the duet you’d planned. A hand catching yours halted you mid-step. Turning around, you gave Ignis a look of surprise that only grew by the second as you took in his sudden seriousness.

“Leave with me.”

You blinked, eyelids fluttering in confusion. He kept going before you could say anything.

“You don’t belong here or with Ravus. Leave him and return to Insomnia with me.” He inhaled a breath as if to steady himself, eyes searching your face.

This didn’t make any sense. Slowly, you tore your hand from his grip. “What?”

Ignis reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, withdrawing a very familiar piece of yellow gold. Your heart began to pound, nothing about this adding up in your mind. Ignis had gotten over you. Ignis had moved on a long time ago. He shouldn’t have been doing this, not _now._

Your eyes mapped his face, looking from the beauty marks to the perfect curves of his eyebrows to the bow of his lips that used to have the power to make you melt. You had no idea where this was coming from. 

If he was asking you this, he was either wildly desperate or he’d never actually gotten over you. Neither option was one you wanted to entertain. It almost made you angry to think that you’d worked so hard to get over him _twice,_ yet he chose to come to you now, a confession _long_ past due.

“You—” Ignis swallowed, holding up the token in offer. “You belong with me.”

You reached for the compact, touching its warm, familiar surface. Then you rose your other hand to force Ignis’ fingers to curl around it, enclosing the golden piece. Ignis visibly tensed, and it was with effort that you made yourself look up at him.

“I’m going to pretend this didn’t happen.” You felt your eyes water, tears building up in the corners. You were growing so fucking angry, your fury held back by a sense of calm you didn’t know you’d developed. “And I think you should try to have more respect, Ignis.”

It wasn’t an entirely fair thing to say because you knew him well enough. He meant this. He wanted you to go, to be with him, and had let himself indulge in this moment of desperation. But that’s all it was— a moment.

What he’d always lacked was the gall to take what he wanted without hesitation. He thought too deeply, and that had kept him two steps ahead in every area of his life apart from your relationship. This moment would pass —and maybe he wouldn’t regret it if you did go with him— but he’d rethink this with a clearer head later.

So it was with that thought that you dropped your hands away from his, leaving the compact in his hold. “If not respect for me or Ravus, then for your wife.”

His grip on the compact tightened. “She was a mistake. I shouldn’t—”

You shook your head, the moisture at your eyes beginning to obscure your vision. “Stop. Don’t use _me_ as an excuse to leave her, Ignis. If you’re going to do it, do it for yourself.”

He rose his free hand and rested it at your cheek. His thumb caught a fat tear that had escaped, wiping it away gently. You hadn’t even realized you’d already begun to cry, your teeth pressed together firmly. He drew closer, but you stood your ground, not realizing until it was too late that that’s what he’d been counting on.

You were drawn in by every bit of the green in his eyes, a brilliant color he had hidden behind his spectacles. He was weaponizing one of the first things you’d admired about him. They used to make you lose all reason.

“I will never love anyone else the way I’ve loved you.” He said it with the same amount of certainty he’d always had when mentioning love. But if it were true, why didn’t his actions ever coincide with his words?

“Why now?” Your voice broke, something you’d been afraid of but ignored in the face of this bullshit. You knocked his hand away from your face. His eyes wouldn’t work to enchant you now; he wasn’t right for you anymore. “I’m _happy_ , Ignis.”

“Are you _tru_ _ly_ happy? He barely acknowledges you.”

“That doesn’t—” You wanted to scream. He was missing the point. “Why wait until now?”

He looked down at the compact, eyes leaving yours for just a moment. “I had to think over everything thoroughly before making a move.”

You scoffed wetly at this excuse. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it? You hated that you were the one crying. _He_ was the one being rejected, but you were so angry, the waterworks wouldn’t end.

You wiped at your eyes, taking a moment to think and not look at him. An extremely small part of you felt the same about him. You’d never love anyone like you had Ignis. Not even Ravus. There was no comparison between the men, and you weren’t going to waste one moment even trying. They occupied two completely different parts of your mind, life, and heart.

As you tried to blink away the moisture at your eyes, facing him, you considered voicing this. Even though you were sure a part of you would always love Ignis in some way, you hadn’t ached for him in all the time you’d been apart. Ravus hadn’t replaced him; he’d taken root in a part of your heart all his own, and it had grown far beyond what you’d had with Ignis.

Ravus knew you in a way that would always be lost on the other man. Maybe that was another unfair thought, to think Ignis incapable, but he wasn’t exactly being fair himself, asking you to leave and be with him all of a sudden.

You cleared your throat, eyes already watering again as you spoke. It was annoying, really. “I’m going back to the ballroom.” You backed away to keep from reaching out to him as his expression fell. He looked down at the compact in his hand, frown sharp on his face. “I’m so—” Clearing your throat again, you said, “I’m sorry I can’t be your escape, Ignis.”

Wanting this desperate moment to end as soon as possible, you inhaled a deep breath and made one last swipe at your teary eyes. Instead of going back to the ballroom like you’d said, you went to your guest rooms. Undoing the clasps and zipper of the gown, you undressed to your undergarments and threw yourself onto the bed. Anger still welled in you, quiet but deep.

You weren't so much pissed off at Ravus anymore. But Ignis… You hated him for waiting until he’d gotten married to _someone else_ to propose to you. And, in a way, you were mad at yourself for believing for one second that a ball could actually go by without issue.

—

The last day of the festival was held in silence, encouraging reflection. You’d awoken in your guest rooms with a headache and took hot tea instead of coffee when you got to the dining room.

“Kid, you look terrible.” Aranea, ever the friend, was ready to call you out on the puffiness of your eyes.

You blew on the tea, taking a sip as you flipped her off. Nothing was going to make you speak today. Nothing was going to upset you. Your head pounded because you’d cried yourself to sleep out of rage.

Today was meant for reflection, and that’s exactly what you planned to do, and you hoped everyone else did, too, because they fucking needed to. Especially Ignis, you thought. When he entered the dining room not long after you did, you spared him a nod and kept drinking your tea.

Not knowing for sure when you’d get to see Mom again, you made her a priority. Walking her through the fields of sylleblossoms was the best use of your morning, full conversations carried out without breaking the silence.

At noon, the knight did an elaborate show of waving you back toward the manor for tea, and you led Mom back inside feeling no less heavy with anger and anxiety. Your issues weren’t up for discussion. Not with Luna and not with Mom. But holding it in was doing nothing for your attempt at reflection.

Ravus wasn’t in the parlor when you arrived. You kept looking at the doors, waiting for him to join everyone for what you thought was his favorite time of the day. The wait stretched as the meal ended with no sign of the prince. Everyone began to do their own things, taking up different parts of the parlor while you kept mostly to yourself.

Gladio played chess with Aranea, separate from everyone else. It was the quietest you’d ever seen the woman as she contemplated her moves. Luna read by the afternoon light that poured through the windows. Prompto and Noctis played King’s Knight on their phones while Ignis and Mom spoke silently through signs. It was such a mundane scene.

No one acknowledged your pacing, for which you were grateful. It shouldn’t bother you so much that Ravus wasn’t there. You were probably going to ignore him anyway since he seemed dead set on keeping away from you. The thought hurt. You’d considered yourself above all of this, but even with Ravus, you were bad at making relationships work. You didn’t even know _why_ this time.

Since this wasn’t an issue you could work on, you thought about the other thing that weighed heavily on your mind. Peering over at Ignis, you stopped mid-stride and frowned. The way he casually smiled with Mom grated on your nerves. He’d gotten _married_ yet he—

“How _dare_ you try to disrupt my life.” You glared at Ignis and didn’t realize you’d broken the silence in the air until everyone was looking at you. Letting soft embarrassment simmer with your anger, you went to the exit, shoving through the doorway and out into the hall.

Running hands down your face, you tried to calm yourself down because all you really wanted to do now was yell. The door never fully closed behind you, the soft woosh of it hitting you as it opened again before finally falling shut. Turning around had you facing Ignis. He rose his hands to sign, but you shook your head.

“I can’t believe you.” You scowled at him, eyes moving to the door behind him for a second before you continued. “We haven’t spoken in _five months,_ Ignis. You’re married to another woman. You’re in there talking to my mom and acting like proposing to me was no big deal.”

Ignis frowned sharply. “It was hardly a small thing.”

You knew you shouldn’t be talking, but it was too late now. “I worked to get my life together. You can’t just _assert_ yourself out of nowhere.”

Expression growing more tense by the second, Ignis said, “I understand. That’s why I’m attempting to move past it, but you feel the need to cause a scene.”

Mouth opening, you fell silent for a second as the words registered. Oh. You’d told him you would pretend it never happened, hadn’t you? Blinking a little, you looked away. “I just want to be friends. If that’s impossible, tell me now.”

His answer wasn’t immediate. Your voices had echoed down the corridor, which now sat in silence as you waited for him.

“I would like that,” he finally said, his voice notably softer. “Given time.”

A tiny wave of relief came to you, and you realized that that’s what you’d been hoping to hear. “Good.” Meeting his gaze, you smiled weakly. “I belong to no one, by the way. And neither do you. Reflect on that.”

It was clear that the others had heard at least _some_ of your conversation as you went back into the parlor. You sat down between Noct and Prompto, ignoring the looks and pulling out your phone to join them in King’s Knight without another word. The uneasy feeling about you was finally beginning to wane away.

Mom kept sending you glances even when Ignis retook his seat next to her, but you didn’t comment. She couldn’t know what you’d talked with Ignis about, but moms were just good at worrying regardless. As far as you were concerned, the issue was settled for good. There would be _no more_ confusion about where your loyalties now rested. Not within yourself and not with anyone in your life.

—

You felt immensely happy when the festival ended, the castle clearing of everyone who didn’t normally reside there. You also felt guilt at being so happy because you were _supposed_ to miss all of your friends and family. There was something to be said, though, for the overwhelming sense of peace you felt at how quiet it was with everyone gone.

As you made your own way to the train station to make the trip down the mountain and back to your little apartment, you heard Ravus call your name down a hallway. He wasn’t normally taken to yelling or even loudly projecting so you turned back to look at him in surprise.

It was the first time he’d spoken directly to you in almost two days. You were still a little sour at the physical distance he’d put between you, but knew there was probably a good reason. It was your own fault, really, for avoiding him instead of just asking for an explanation.

He strode down the hall toward you, all seriousness. You expected him to stop short, to demand why you’d not so much as looked his way in the past couple of days. What he actually did was take your face in his hands, fingers tangling into your hair.

“Ask me to kiss you,” he said, the hard line of his mouth parting with light breaths as if he’d been storming across the castle before finding you. “Please, do it now.”

“Why are—”

He let out an irritated breath, closing the distance. The kiss was hard and unmoving, just the press of his mouth to yours as if he were trying to seal them that way. Your bag fell, dropped from your arm as you reached up, hands gripping his shoulders to bring him closer.

His lips began to move, coaxing yours apart, and your hands met behind his neck. He’d eaten something sweet before finding you, the taste of it strong on his tongue. You smiled into the kiss, your annoyance at him falling away completely.

“Ah-ha!”

The exclamation made you jerk back from him. He let you go, attempting to even out his breaths with a deep inhale as you both turned to look at the knight. She stood on the other end of the corridor, finger pointed at you in accusation.

“I knew it,” she said, dropping her finger. After all of her attempts to catch you for the past few months, this felt anticlimactic. “You are seamless.”

When she continued on and disappeared around a corner, Ravus looked at you. “She must mean shameless.”

You snorted lightly, unsurprised by the young woman’s continued lack of skill in basic Lucian. Bending to pick up your bag, you thought to ask him why he’d kicked you out of his room for a time and where this sudden need to kiss you had come from. But, in the face of what had happened with Ignis, your annoyance had taken a backseat.

Whether Ravus had just wanted his own space, or he was operating on some assumption that he shouldn’t share a bed with you while Mom was around, it was all fair. Next time, you would approach him about it instead of wallowing.

You threw the strap of your bag over your shoulder and smiled up at him. “Kiss me before I go.”

His mouth was on yours again within moments, and you felt an urgency from him that had never been there before. Making up for lost time, maybe. He broke the kiss, his voice a low growl. “Don’t leave.”

You hadn’t heard that out of him before either, and he continued before you could question the soft demand.

“Denying myself of your presence was not one of my better plans.” He kissed you again, his eyes closing. “I’ve only found myself wanting you more.”

Another press of his mouth made you lean into him, and your bag fell again, this time louder and completely ignored. It didn’t occur to you until several minutes later that you were making out in the middle of the corridor. Whatever had gotten into Ravus had broken down some of his inner walls, something you’d been working toward your entire relationship.

You weren’t going anywhere.

—

Ravus’ fireplace was lit, providing the only light in the room aside from the half moon that peeked through the large, ornate windows. You lay underneath him, nothing separating your bodies but the thin layers of your undergarments. He never let himself get into the position to hold you down entirely so your legs always bent, knees touching his side while his arms framed your head when his hands weren’t busy teasing moans out of you with attention to every sensitive spot above your waist.

His mouth was wet and hot against your own. He bit your lower lip, pulling at it with his teeth before moving his mouth downward, grazing your neck with small bites that just barely stung as he let go. Your hands wandered, tracing the now familiar lines of his torso. When you dared to touch the waistband of his boxer briefs, he was quick to grab your wrist.

He lifted his head from where he’d been kissing the curve of your cleavage and looked at you, the warm lighting from the fireplace washing out the blush you were sure was on his face.

You rose the hand he didn't have held down and touched his cheek with your fingertips. “I want you to touch me.”

Letting out a hard breath, he let go of your hand. Bracing himself on an elbow, he used his free hand to gently touch your stomach, smoothing along the curves of your side. His eyes remained on yours, strands of hair falling into his face.

You brushed them back with a soft, pleading look. “Please, Ravus.”

His breath picked up, his hand moving lower, passing over your panties to feel the wetness that had soaked through. Fingers far too gentle, he barely grazed the aching juncture between your thighs with his nails. The featherlight sensation made you squirm.

He stilled his hand, eyes searching your face. “Guide me.”

Taken by surprise at this soft command, you took hold of his hand, fingers splaying along his. You directed it underneath the layer of cotton, shivering a little at the feeling of his fingers suddenly rubbing directly against you. You made him curl all but his middle and ring finger. They moved in the slickness, and your heart began to pound at having him so close.

“Like this,” you breathed, guiding his fingers inside. He slid them in slowly, the invasion a sweet tease at what you really wanted. You held his wrist, stopping him from drawing out. “Now curl your fingers.”

He listened, his eyes taking in every reaction that came to your face. You positioned his thumb in the right place, forcing it into smooth, circular movements that had your toes curling. Your free hand gripped at his shoulder, your chest rocking with heavy breaths.

“Perfect.” You leaned up to kiss him, a slightly messy and brief meeting of your lips. He was too focused on maintaining his ministrations, and you were basking in his attention. Fingers pulling at the soft hair at his nape, you moved against his fingers. He quickened the pace, exploring you in faster, harder motions. His thumb pressed and circled, eliciting a moan out of you.

His cock, now hard, rested against your hip, and you reached down, sliding your hand into his boxer briefs and over the length of it to return the favor. His skin was silky and smooth, but you didn’t get time to admire it. His entire body stilled, his fingers leaving you to pull your hand away.

You whined at being stopped from making him feel good and from losing his delicious attention to your touch-starved body. “Please, let me touch you.”

He shook his head, letting go of your hand to return his own to their previous position. It was clear he wanted to keep going, but you were suddenly feeling bratty. If he wasn’t going to let you touch him, he wasn’t going to touch you. You bent your legs, blocking him. “No.”

Pulling his hand away, he used it to brace himself above you, eyes sharp on yours, light but quick breaths escaping him. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” You repeated and dropped the hand you had on his nape, sliding it down his shoulder to his arm. “It feels amazing. Can I do that for you, too?”

His jaw clenched, a moment of hesitation, then he shook his head again. It was so at odds with his body, the shakiness of his arms, and the hard press of him at your side.

You groaned at his stubbornness, looking away. “Then, let’s stop.” You felt him breathe against your neck for a beat, then he rolled over and away. Turning onto your side, you looked at him in the dim firelight. He stared at the ceiling, a hand underneath his head, his mouth in a cutting frown.

“Why not?” You were just curious. Okay, you were very put out, but also curious. Never in your life had you met someone who liked to torture themselves so thoroughly.

Ravus inhaled a deep breath, his broad chest expanding. You appreciated the sight despite the sinking feeling that came with not getting off like you’d hoped. He tilted his head, eyes meeting yours. “I’m not ready, ma crevette.”

The pet name made you soften, and you reached across the mattress to gently touch his bicep. If he wanted to keep at a snail’s pace, that was fine. You just wished you hadn’t gotten your hopes up for following through tonight. You still ached for touch. A quick thought coming to mind, you slid the hand that wasn’t resting at his arm into your panties.

He tensed a little in reaction, but didn’t look away, his gaze moving down the curve of your breasts as they pressed against each other from the way you were laying. Then he watched as you began to touch yourself. You reveled in your audience of one, unwilling to actually let him see you finger yourself because only men who let you reciprocate were so lucky for a full show.

You stared at him through lidded eyes, fucking your fingers while he watched, only seeing your hand buried in your panties and the reactions it had on your body, your expression. Your hand on his arm tightened, your body curling forward slightly with a slow buildup that began right at your core.

Rolling onto your back, you let go of his arm to caress yourself, hand sliding up your side and massaging your breast. It wasn’t what you normally did, but you’d gotten very familiar with loving yourself while waiting for Ravus. Closing your eyes, you said his name as you came around your fingers so much sooner than you’d intended, still thinking about how it had felt with his much larger digits inside you.

Laying there, coming down from it, you looked over at him again. He stared, clearly hard through the blanket but unmoving to do anything about it. He really didn’t let himself go, did he?

You sighed into the quiet air. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

“Don’t.” It was quick, not a snipe but hard all the same. “You’re beautiful but cruel. Make yourself aware of that.”

The release hadn’t been strong enough to linger, but you felt temporarily satiated, another soft sigh leaving you. “Are you sure I’m the cruel one? You’re the one who won’t let me touch you.”

You wanted to close the distance between you, and by the look on his face, Ravus felt much the same. But neither of you moved.

You were at an impasse. Ravus _finally_ wanted to go further, but only to touch you. As appealing as the thought was to just let him enjoy every inch of you without any expectations on your end, it didn’t sit well with you to not return in kind.

His near surrender to the basest of his desires brought light to his behavior during the festival. He was struggling to keep himself in check, and you wished you understood just why he felt the need to do that in the first place.

“So you were keeping a distance because of…” You trailed off, not actually knowing what you were trying to say. “Because you wanted me?”

Ravus’ gaze was unwavering. “I’ve told you before. It can be unbearable at times.”

He spoke so seriously, you were at a loss for words.

“The more I love you, the harder it becomes,” he admitted, his gentle intensity holding you captive. “I enjoyed the parts of you that were brought forth by having your friends and family here, so it became…” Ravus blinked, then sent his gaze back to the ceiling, not finishing his thought.

You kept staring, analyzing his profile. Didn’t he understand that, when he was so forthright like this, he was only making you ache for him more?

—

Somehow landing a job at a cafe just across the street from your apartment, you felt confident that you could keep yourself afloat even though it paid slightly less than what you were used to. The tips were nice, and all you had to do to get those was carry mugs to people who ordered in. It was after one of those shifts, finding yourself smelling remarkably like Prompto had back when he’d worked several jobs through college, that said best friend called you in complete distress.

“Dude, my dad,” he said in a rush. “He’s— ugh!”

Between frustrated sighs and wavering tones, he told you some new things he’d learned about his father. Verstael Besithia was a criminal. One that had done something so bad that he was serving a life sentence in Gralea. Prompto had only been able to gather this after a lot of digging, research, and contacting the right people— after a fair amount of contacting the wrong ones.

He didn’t know what his father had done to be locked away. But he poured out his speculations in long-winded rants that left no room for you to speak or him to catch his breath.

At some point in the call, while you were playing with your fancy camera, he got to the main point. He was going to Gralea when the new year began, and he wanted you to go with him.

“Aranea says it’s tricky,” Prompto said, sounding drained after hours of talking. “That I need special papers, and— oh, she said she’d be our escort since it’s super hard to get into Niflheim.”

That was interesting because, from what you’d heard, the problem was leaving Niflheim. Since the country bordered Tenebrae, you heard stories every so often about friends or family members going to the empire and never returning. They’d always seem like bullshit ghost stories, but the fear had to be based on some reality, right?

Of course you agreed to go. He wasn’t traveling through until the start of next year, which gave you two entire months to prepare. For what, you weren’t sure, but you were going to be there for Prompto no matter what.

—

“I won’t allow it.”

You stared at Ravus across the coffee table. It was afternoon tea on one of your days off. He sat in a wingback while you lounged on your usual sette, tea and sweets on the table between you. Pretty standard.

“Excuse me?” You sat up straighter, frowning at him. “I’m not asking permission. I’m telling you I’m going.”

He shook his head, both his eyes and frown sharp. “Absolutely not.”

You shared the frown, putting down your tea to cross your arms. “Why are you being like this?”

Looking into his teacup for a moment, he worked his jaw. “It’s a discordant state divided by weak government politics.” Raising his gaze to meet yours, he continued, “Citizens are detached, violence is high, and you are a foreigner. I won’t let you walk into a potentially dangerous situation.”

Thinking on that, you picked up your teacup. “Then train me.”

He gave you a hard stare, saying nothing.

You sipped from your cup and rolled a shrug over your shoulders. “I read the information you sent so I know you have to train me eventually.”

The entire truth: you’d skimmed it. There was a _lot_ there, sections and subsections of everything you never would’ve _thought_ to consider about joining a royal family. Forty pages alone were dedicated to an abridged history of the Oracles through time. You didn’t know why you needed training, but you did, according to the rules.

“Have you ever trained?”

“For self defense,” you said, glad to see that he was considering the thought. “And you know I can shoot a gun.”

He shook his head, placing his cup down. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll train you in swordsmanship.”

You smiled. “Great. It’s in two months. Think you can do it by then?”

“The basics, I’m sure.” His eyes left yours, his arms crossing over his chest as he seemed to fall into deep thought.

Brushing crumbs from the front of your shirt, you sent him curious looks.”What’s on your mind, papa-gateau?”

His gaze snapped to you, and he inhaled a breath, loosening his arms to run a hand through his hair. “I’m going with you.”

“You don’t need to,” you said, wondering where this was suddenly coming from. “Aranea’s escorting us.”

“Even so.” He picked up a cookie, breaking it in half. “I’d feel better knowing you were safe.”

You shrugged, watching him savor the cookie. That was fine. If you fought him on it, he might change his mind, you thought. You couldn’t think of a safer place than by his side, anyway.

—

The training sword was weighted in your hands. You moved it from one hand to another, adjusting your hold as you recalled the last time you held one. Feeling good about your grip, you rose it like a baseball bat, swinging it in an arch that didn’t move as quickly as you’d hoped. Your feet were bare on the mat, usual for yoga, but surprising for swordplay.

“Hands and arms should be your first target,” Ravus said, ignoring your swinging. He hefted his own training sword, eyes on it rather than you. His expression was overly serious, and you thought it was cute. “The goal is to disarm your opponent as quickly as possible.”

You nodded, absorbing that information. Matching your movements with his own proved difficult because your coordination had never been the best. Since you were only beginning, it didn’t bother you.

“Do you know what the next best target may be?” he asked, taking a stance that you tried to mimic, both hands gripping the sword.

“The genitals?” you guessed, looking down to adjust your grip again.

A knock to your head, not enough to hurt, made you look up.

Unamused, Ravus lowered his practice sword. “The head. It would be dishonorable in a duel, but a standard altercation bears no such rules.”

“Go for the face, got it.” Now you felt like you were just waiting for him to actually show you something. There couldn’t be _that_ much behind swinging a sword around aside from _try not to get stabbed,_ right?

“Be on your guard while always looking for openings,” he continued, “This is—”

“Come on, let’s do this,” you urged, retaking the stance from earlier. You felt confident, comfortable in your body because you were more flexible and agile than you’d ever been. If you couldn’t get a strike on one of his hands or at his head, you could always evade.

Ravus’ mouth became a straight line, his brows pulled together as he analyzed you. “You want to begin before I’ve covered everything?”

“I learn by practice, you know that.” You rolled your shoulders, grip firm on the sword. “Do your worst.”

You expected him to further question your want to rush or to scoff and ignore your insistence. Instead you dropped your sword, a sudden rip of pain searing at your hand. You hissed, glaring up at him as you cupped your fingers with your other hand. Squeezing them didn’t alleviate the pain that throbbed lightly along your knuckles. Neither did shaking your hand, although that was all you could do.

“Really?” You flexed your fingers, then picked up your sword.

“That wasn’t even my worst,” he said, his tone droll. “Now, if you’ll listen, I’ll show you how to defend and deflect.”

You made a lazy swipe at him, but he blocked it easily. The pain in your hand was finally beginning to ebb. “I can’t believe you hit me.”

He rose a brow. “Did you not ask for it?”

Stepping toward him, you made another attempt to hit him, seriously this time, but he was too fast.

“Fuck!” The sword clattered quietly against the mat, and you grimaced down at your hand. He’d hit a couple of your fingernails that time, blood seeping along the edges. Not enough to alarm, but the pain pulsed red hot on your skin.

Every bit of your amusement was gone. You glared at him as you picked up your sword again. You’d come here out of obligation and idle interest. Now you wanted nothing more than to hit Ravus with your practice sword.

His eyes followed your hand, but you weren’t going to complain about the pain when he was clearly trying to instill seriousness in you. Deciding to humor him, you retook your stance with pointed words. “Defend and deflect?”

He nodded, curt but approving as he went on to explain the gist of things. The entire time he prattled, you imagined ways you could get one over on him, but when it came time to put his lessons to practice, none of your tricks worked.

—

Ravus’ hands could harm and heal in equal measure. Stings of pain washed over your knuckles as he held them, light radiating from the place where his skin just barely touched yours. You watched his face while he focused on repairing the parts of you that he’d struck without hesitation. He hadn’t attacked you without provocation, but you had a strong sense that this was just another way in which he was holding himself back.

With how bad these minor cuts and bruises were, you were grateful for it.

“Why is this a part of my royal training or whatever?” Your voice came out quieter than intended, not echoing off the walls like most things did in the training rooms. “Do I really need to know how to fight?”

He didn’t look up, his palms moving to a different part of your hand to heal the scrape there. “It’s tradition. Should Tenebrae go to war, everyone in the royal family must know how to properly engage and conquer in battle.”

You chewed on your lip. “So your mom knows how to fight?”

“Yes. You’ve seen her trident.” He said it plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing.

You’d always thought the Oracle’s trident was ornamental. “Could I train with _her_?”

Ravus actually huffed a quick breath, a near laugh as he looked at you, the edges of his mouth curving slightly. “If you think she would go easier on you than I have, you are mistaken, ma crevette.”

You fought the urge to kiss him, his small smile making you weak. “Will you get a trident when you become Oracle, or is it passed down?”

He returned his attention to healing your hands, moving on to the next after tending to the first. “It’s unlikely that I ever will. By the time my mother passes, we will have a progeny of our own. It would go to them.”

You blinked, looking away. A strange mix of affection and anxiety bloomed in your chest at the blunt suggestion. He was just going right out and _saying_ it, huh? Not even a hint of hesitation in his voice. You cleared your throat, flexing the hand that he’d mended first. “Gonna be hard to do that if you won’t ever sleep with me.”

His focus pulled up, eyes meeting yours as the light from his hands dissipated. His little smile had disappeared. You were left with eyes that searched yours carefully and the straight line of his mouth. “I can’t bless things.”

Staring at him, your shy wistfulness became confusion. “What does that have to do with us not sleeping together?”

He let go of your hand, brushing back his hair, loosened from its tie after hours of training. “Until I’m able to cast a blessing, I’ve sworn to remain abstinent.”

Right. That seemed like the kind of dramatic logic Ravus operated on. You rubbed your newly healed hands together, a residual tingling of his magic ghosting along your skin. “So that’s why you’re such a tease?”

His serious expression flattened into unamusement, and his hand dropped from his hair as he pushed himself up from the training mat. “If I’m a tease, I’ve no doubt you deserve it.”

When he offered a hand to help you up, you took it with a growing smile. “If that’s the rule, then I should get to tease you, too.”

Ravus considered you, not letting go of your hand even when you were on even footing. “If you best me, certainly.”

—

Your schedule became rigid, training most days of the week between working your day job. Saturdays were spent relaxing, but you were really just biding your time. While Ravus was holding sex as his motivation for learning how to properly bless, you held the opportunity to make him squirm as your own form of motivation for getting through his admittedly hard lessons.

On the eighteenth day of training, it happened. You’d met him on the mat in an especially form fitting top, already stretching when he arrived. It seemed like the easiest thing once you realized there was only one way you’d ever best him.

He’d have to let you.

So, your goal had been to make him _want_ it. Knowing he could have you face-planting within seconds, as he usually did, you spent much of the first hour evading. You were limber, getting whacked only twice before deciding to throw yourself at him.

Taken from what you remembered of your self defense lessons, you caught Ravus off guard by doing exactly what he didn’t expect. He’d said on the third day that the sword wasn’t your only weapon. Every part of you could be used in some way. He’d meant punching and kicking, but the basic idea was the same.

Tackling him wasn’t with the intent of actually getting him to the floor. He was far too tall and built to be felled by the likes of you. The point was to remind him of what you felt like against him. You wanted to plant that seed of confusion, watering it afterward with every glance, each soft noise out of you, and the occasional slow brush of your hand at the sweat on your neck and between your cleavage.

The second time you attempted a tackle, hours later into the lesson, Ravus let himself fall. His chest heaved with heavy breaths underneath your palms, his eyes narrowing. He could’ve shoved you off, but he went still beneath you. His hands remained at his sides, not making a move to touch you. He wanted it.

“Do your worst,” he said, his voice a low rumble as his mismatched eyes stared up at you.

Your worst, huh? What that encompassed was such a variety of things, your mind immediately became overrun with thoughts of where you wanted to touch him, what places you’d yet to see on his body. Would his neck taste salty with sweat if you licked it right now? The thought would usually disgust you, but he was openly inviting you to _do your worst_ so all holds were barred in your sudden allowance.

He shifted beneath you, lifting a knee slightly. Unlike every encounter you’d had with a person in this particular position, Ravus wasn’t immediately aroused and hard against your thighs that straddled him. His heart was beating rapidly and, despite the scowl on his face, the softest blush had dusted his pale cheeks. So you knew. You knew he wasn’t unaffected by this. He only showed it in ways it had taken you time to grow familiar with.

You let a smile come to your face, warm feelings igniting in your chest at his drawn brows and obvious impatience as he shifted again. Whatever he expected you to do, you couldn’t have been sure. He was clear in many things but not always his expectations. Whether it was an attempt to keep you from feeling imposed upon or simply his shy nature toward intimacy, you appreciated the mystery. You leaned over him, skimming his nose with your own. His scowl faded, lips parting slightly as his brows eased.

“Thank you,” you said, tilting your head to ghost your lips over his cheek. “You’ve been the perfect teacher for this training thing.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you felt him relax a little more. You whispered against his skin, enjoying the way he let you touch him freely. “I feel so safe with you. I’ve never trusted anyone this much.”

You lifted a hand to trace a finger down his jaw, and he seemed unbothered by the way you bore a bit more of your weight on the hand that remained on his broad chest. His breath caught. “You always take such good care of me, Ravus. I love you for that.”

You leaned back slightly to meet his eyes, thumb brushing along his lower lip. Kissing him was what you wanted, but he probably expected that. You were loving the soft surprise in his usually stoic expression. So you kissed his chin instead, lips brushing the beginnings of stubble.

“You told me once that the gods don’t care about petty things.” You brushed your lips along his cheek and against his temple before kissing his forehead. “But I think they brought me to you just so I could do this.”

Leaning over him, you rested your forehead against his and closed your eyes. The smile on your face was soft with feelings you were a little embarrassed to be displaying. But, again, he’d asked for your worst, and you couldn’t think of anything that would affect him more.

Accurately displaying feelings without making a joke of it was difficult for you. Displaying feelings at all was difficult for Ravus. You knew they were there, though. Whatever this was between you, although completely intangible and hard to define, existed in every quiet moment, each sigh from him and laugh out of you. It was proven by the way his breath picked up at your words. At the—

Oh.

Again, he moved beneath you, a hand touching your hip firmly. That was new, given how well he’d done to keep you at arm’s length during training so far. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an invitation. He wanted you to get up because he’d grown incredibly hard.

You opened your eyes in realization and leaned back, moving your hips against him out of instinct more than intent. He let out a low sound from deep in his chest, and his hand prompted you away again, more insistent this time.

You hesitated, taking in that feeling of him against you for one last selfish moment. He was solid and firm against your thigh. You’d succeeded in something that you hadn’t even intended to do, and a mix of pride and lust overcame you as you pushed yourself up.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, heat blooming from your face to your chest. So you’d learned something new. Ravus was turned on by simple praises and endearments. You watched him get up, stretching out your arms with a smile plastered on your face. You couldn’t help it.

He picked up both training swords, avoiding your gaze. You tried to make your glance at his arousal subtle and casual, but it only made your smile grow. Sparing him embarrassment, you tilted your head away to hide your grin.

“That is enough for the day,” he said, walking toward one of the stands to put away the swords. “You may go.”

“You’re not coming?”

He only put one away, working a muscle in his shoulder as he hefted the weight of the other sword in his hand. “I’m remaining behind for personal training.”

Though he didn’t see it, you shrugged. “I’ll stick back and wait for you.”

He turned around with another scowl. He’d dared you to do your worst, and maybe he’d been expecting you to come on to him, to make a more physical move because that suited your own boundaries more. But this was just as much your worst, especially now that you’d discovered something new about him. Was he grouchy because you’d taken him by surprise?

“Leave,” he growled. “Now.”

You crossed your arms, purposely positioning them underneath your breasts, your smile not abating. “Why? I wanna watch you train.”

His grip on the sword’s hilt tightened. “What you want is to make my life difficult.”

“You asked for it,” you pointed out. “Because you love it.”

_You love me._

With a displeased noise, he turned away again. “Ma crevette, _go_.”

Something in the pet name and softer tone made you drop your arms. Your impishness faded into mild surprise. He wasn’t flirting back. You were making him _too_ uncomfortable now.

Slowly, you backed away one step, then two. “O-okay.” Walking to the door, you felt discomfort of your own. Ravus was a difficult person. You understood him and the boundaries he held in place, but they were paper thin and dangerously narrow. He couldn’t get mad at you for crossing a line when he’d been the one to ask for it, but you felt budding guilt anyway.

You left with a quiet apology, doubt beginning to flood your mind.

—

Ravus had a sizable tub in his private washroom. White marble shaped into a perfectly round basin that rested in the middle of its own room just beyond the main bath. You’d never used it because it seemed inconvenient, a wait required to let it fill.

With your body aching from the sixth day straight of training that week, you thought the wait worth it. Hot water lapped at your sore muscles as you lowered into the tub comfortably. The cold air of the castle nipped at your exposed skin so you sank in as deeply as you could.

A contented sigh fell out of you, and you tried to force away your earlier doubts. Ravus was just _like that,_ you reminded yourself. Difficult and stubborn and desiring you so badly, he held you aloft as a reward for bettering himself. Maybe you should’ve been upset at being seen as a prize, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t already have you. You were like a gift he just hadn’t unwrapped because he didn’t feel like he deserved it yet.

You were torn from your thoughts when the door to the bath opened. Looking over your shoulder, you met Ravus’ eyes as he stopped in the doorway. He seemed calmer, the distinct lack of a tent in his pants a pretty good clue that he’d gotten over what had happened.

You turned around further, hand gripping at the lip of the tub, when he pulled his shirt over his head. “What are you doing?”

He dropped his shirt and began to work at the tie on his pants. “Undressing.”

“Like… completely?”

He kicked the pants away, fingers slipping under the waistband of his boxer briefs as he looked up at you. “That _is_ the proper state for a bath.” Unlike how you’d left him in the training rooms, he appeared totally unbothered.

You sank a little deeper into the large tub as he took the last of his clothes off. “Sweet Shiva,” you breathed, unable to look away.

It was somehow enormously different than you’d expected. To be fair, your overactive imagination had unfortunately likened it to a can of Ebony, but that— that wasn’t quite right. You swallowed hard as you took in the length and girth of it. Thick and faintly ridged with veins beneath pale skin, it was striking, to say the least.

When he joined you in the tub, you made yourself look up at his face. You were a little intimidated but mostly impressed by what he had to offer and by his candor and trust in revealing himself so freely.

He relaxed into the water, leaving a small space between you, a courteous distance you both despised and appreciated. The steamy water distorted your view of him, but you drank in as much as you could.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

Ravus’ eyes were just as openly curious about your body, lingering on what you barely had hidden beneath the shimmering water. His face grew a twinge of pink that you doubted came from the warmth of the bath. Eyes meeting yours, he said, “I wasn’t angry with you. Frustrated, perhaps. But I would say it was directed at myself.”

Doing your best to not be completely distracted by his body, you focused on his words. “You were _just_ snapping at me for—”

He leaned toward you, quieting you with a kiss. His hand came to your waist, and although you knew he was telling you to _hush and listen,_ you moved closer, thrilled at his touch. He broke the kiss, and you followed, but he held you back, his other hand coming to hold you fully by the waist.

“It seems that leaving you wanting is catching up to me.” His tone was even, but his eyes were blown. Nothing separated you but the gentle pressure of the water. “I can’t have you distracted during training, so this is what will happen: I will satisfy you, but you’re not to touch me without permission.”

His hands smoothed down your sides, taking purchase at your hips. He kept you held back but leaned closer, his eyes growing lidded and his chest moving faster with heavier breaths. “Should you become uncomfortable, you will tell me. Understood?”

You nodded slowly, bringing a hand to his chest.

He grabbed your wrist, holding it at bay as he tilted his head to kiss your neck. “Already not listening.”

You let him push you against the tub, your back falling flat to the edge. His knee spread your legs, resting there as he pressed his chest against yours. Your heart raced, your blood singing as you felt _so much_ of his skin press against yours. Teeth grazing your skin, he sucked at the soft flesh of your neck.

You panted, eyes falling shut and head tilting back. A light moan fell from you, and he bit harder, his hand at your wrist holding tighter. His other hand left your hip, sliding down to rest between your thighs.

Fingers teasing, his mouth leaving you, he spoke low against your wet skin, “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Immediately out of your mouth, the word was pleading. He was _barely_ touching you, the monster.

Ravus kissed the place he’d bitten before drawing away. “Again.”

Your eyes fluttered, opening slightly to peek at him. He regarded you softly, and it made you weak. “I want you.” Lifting your free hand, you touched his jaw. He didn’t stop you this time. “Please, Ravus. Touch me.”

He had the audacity to chuckle. The sound was melodic, music to your ears. “Am I not touching you?” His fingers gingerly traced your entrance, exploring just the barest without probing.

Lifting your head, you pouted a little. He knew damn well what you wanted. “Inside.”

Ravus kissed you and listened, his mouth moving against yours as he pressed one finger inside, then another. The kiss muted your moan, his long fingers sliding in and pressing against a place that made your toes curl. His thumb stroked you as his fingers began to move, curling and delving into your wet heat with fervor.

The kiss cut off as you arched, tilting your head back in pleasure. You trembled under his control, whimpering at the circling, stroking motions he made inside you. “R-Ravus.”

His mouth came to your neck again, softer touches of his lips along your skin before he nipped at your collar. His hair tickled your skin, but it was faint in comparison to the overwhelming heat that coiled at your apex. It continued to build as his fingers worked magic along your inner walls and his mouth teased your chest.

Your hand at his jaw dropped, gripping his shoulder tightly. You clenched around his fingers, knowing you were growing close. A spark of awareness hit you amidst the rising bliss. Every part of his body that touched yours made it ache exquisitely, his leg between yours, his mouth and tongue on the peak of a breast, his fingers buried deep inside.

“Come for me,” he growled, releasing your breast to kiss up your shoulder.

Your legs bent as you drew closer to a finish, one brushing up between his thighs, trapped there. Ravus shifted, resting between your legs to let you come undone without hindrance. You bit your lip, trying to pull him closer by the shoulder, but your fingers only dug into his skin, the man immovable.

Body quivering, stars at the edges of your vision, you felt the climax hit you like a wave. You rode it out, letting go of your lip to moan into the cold air of the castle. His fingers made a final swirling movement in your core, and you tightened around them, stilling as the last of it shook itself from your body.

When his fingers withdrew, he let go of your wrist, releasing you entirely but not leaving the space between your legs. You leaned forward, using your grip on his shoulder, and smashed a kiss to his mouth. It was uncoordinated and sloppy, your body barely more than a puddle in his arms. Resting back against the tub, you looked at him and tried to even out your breathing.

Ravus returned the steady look, pupils still blown wide. His entire face was flush, the pink reaching down his neck and to his chest, obscured by the water. You nearly laughed at the surge of love you felt for him. A smile came to your face, and you dropped your free hand into the water.

Leaning toward him again, you thought to return the favor, as was your instinct. Hand finding his erection, you took a firm grip near the base. It pulsated beneath your palm, burning hotter against your skin than the water that surrounded you. One pump of your hand had him letting out a low moan that echoed in the chamber. Then, he gripped your wrist to stop the motion.

You remembered yourself with sudden clarity, realizing you’d failed at getting permission to touch him. Before the thought could progress, your hand picked up its movements along his shaft. His eyes had closed, the hard line of his jaw tight as he slid your hand over his cock in slow movements, his hand maintaining a firm hold on your wrist.

Encouraged by this, you shifted closer to him for a more comfortable grip on him. His hips canted forward in a hard jerk, and you both stilled. Eyes tearing open, he looked down at you as the hot water sloshed from the intensity of his action. The tip of his cock brushed your entrance, the press of it there keeping you both frozen.

It would be so easy. Just a roll of your hips, and he’d be in you. Your heart pounded in your chest, breaths growing unsteady all over again. Eyes locked with his, you waited for him to make a move, wishing he would give in.

He leaned down, forehead meeting yours as he visibly swallowed. His jaw kept working, tensing and easing. “It would be incredible to love you this way.”

Your hopes rose, the head of his cock teasing your waiting heat when he finally moved your hand away from him. His eyes had you pinned. You were ready to let him in.

“But I mustn’t, and you know that.” He shifted back, letting go of your wrist to remove himself from you entirely.

Disappointment budded and bid you to keep him there in that space, but you fought it, wanting to respect his wishes.

He lifted a shaky hand from the water, dripping beads of it down your neck as he touched your cheek and pressed the softest kiss to your mouth. It lingered, light movements of his lips against yours that spoke volumes of what he didn’t want to voice.

He was graceful leaving the bath, stepping out with no shame despite the obvious effect you’d had on him. Drying himself off with a towel on his way to the door, he told you he’d wait for you in bed.

Once alone, you sank down to your nose, intent to stay in the water until it grew cold.

—

“So this training is actually for dueling, right?” You leaned on the practice sword, watching Ravus tie his hair back. It was pointless because it would be messy and loose in less than an hour. But you liked the seriousness with which he began every session, including the requisite no-nonsense hairstyle.

“In a way,” was all he offered, stretching his arms next. Another pointless thing— he wasn’t going to break a sweat.

“I _mean_ ,” you stressed, lifting your sword in a practice swing. “Are there people vying for your attention that I will have to fight?”

He dropped his arms, his eyes following the movement of your sword. “I won’t pretend there aren’t women who vie for the throne, but you have no reason to worry over them.”

Lowering the sword again, you said, “Joke’s on them. I’m after you, not the throne.”

The corners of Ravus’ mouth twitched with a near smile. “Ideally, you’d have learned this at St. Aera’s Academy. Most nobility send their daughters there in order to make them suitable candidates for queen consort.”

You rose a brow. “And I’m not good enough for your fancy wife factory?”

Ravus turned, walking toward the practice swords. “It would be a waste of time to send you. You’ve a life to live, and you would be miserable surrounded by people who wish to be in your place.”

“I dunno,” you laughed. “I think that would just feed my ego.”

He lifted a sword, inspecting it before turning around and walking back toward you. “Because it’s quite starving as I observe so often in your absurd behavior.” 

You didn’t let this go, not readying your stance because you didn’t want to leave this conversation yet. “Do you promise I won’t have to fight someone to be with you? Jealousy and ownership aren’t really my kinda thing.”

He stopped in front of you, eyes focused on yours. “I can’t promise you won’t be approached, although it’s highly unlikely. There’s a greater chance of others attempting to seduce you in hopes of joining our partnership.”

You stared at him. “Really?”

He moved the sword from one hand to the other, an impatient gesture that he wanted to be training instead of talking now. But he kept humoring you. “Certainly. We will be sought after by many, I’m sure. Myself due to my power and you for your brilliance and beauty.”

He spoke so candidly, as if it were all fact. You couldn’t imagine being at a function with him and being approached by people who wanted to fuck  _both_ of you.

“Is that something we’ll talk about later? Because I’m not sure I’m open for other people.” You wanted to be completely honest. Sharing wasn’t on the table for you.

“In no way would I let another have you.” The corners of his mouth drew down. “You’ve made your choice, and I intend to make sure you don’t regret it.”

He lifted his sword, stepping forward quickly in a move to strike. You were growing more and more familiar with his fighting style and effectively evaded it, rolling across the mat away from him.

Although the conversation had been put to an end, the resolve of his words stuck with you long afterward.

—

In the quiet of your tiny apartment, you nursed a hot cup of Ebony and took a greater look at the important documents Ravus had sent you on behalf of the Oracle. You’d gained her blessing to pursue Ravus —through Luna because you were legitimately bad at doing anything the right way— so the least you could do was take all aspects of your yet defined role a bit more seriously.

Once you really dove into the text, there were some gems.

Your favorite so far was that public displays of affection were forbidden outside of Fenestala Manor. It was a rule set to ensure everyone felt comfortable in the presence of Ravus and trusted that his judgments and decisions would never come from an emotional place.

Another one you found amusing was how full names had to be used, always. Pet names and nicknames were forbidden, lacking in the proper respect due to royalty, according to the documents.

Most important of all seemed to be modesty, a virtue referenced throughout, and unquestionably one you didn’t possess.

All you really found in most of it was that Ravus couldn’t have settled harder for someone so unsuited to be by his side. You didn’t let it get you down, giving more attention to the sections you did like.

Becoming a duchess came with a primary responsibility beyond bearing children and pretending you were perfect while the world looked on. It involved ambassadorship and taking on human rights issues that affected all of Eos. The wide scope of subjects you could convey your concern for on such a massive platform was titillating.

You’d always wanted to make movies to get out the messages you thought the world needed to know and experience. If done creatively, you could mesh these responsibilities with the career you hoped would take off by the time any of this even mattered.

You spent your entire morning drinking cup after cup of coffee and poured over every word at least twice. If Ravus was steadfast in keeping you around like he suggested, you knew you had to stop squandering the resources and care he kept throwing your way.

—

After your time in Ravus’ overly large tub, your lessons had doubled, in a way. He taught you how to use your body for combat in the training rooms, and you taught him how to appreciate a body in his bedchambers. He was much quicker to learn than you were, but you didn’t mind, considering the outcome of his adeptness was intense satisfaction on your end.

Though large and calloused, his hands were swift, tearing your panties down your thighs while he kissed life into you with each stroke of his tongue against yours. This level of immediate intensity was new. Training had run long, often the case right after a rest day because you were more energetic.

But today had been different in that he hadn’t gotten a hit on you once. You hadn’t been able to get one over on him, but every attack of his had been blocked or evaded without a single scratch. Whatever warm, tingling magic he was giving you with his mouth now must’ve come from what he usually stored to heal you.

He slid the cotton past your knees, his hand making its way back up your thigh slowly. You kicked off the remaining garment and keened at his touch. Knowing he sought the fleshiest, most burning parts of your form, you reached for his hand before stopping yourself.

He hadn’t given you permission to touch him yet. As much as that concept would normally get under your skin, it felt obscenely right within the deep privacy of your intimate moments. So you kept your hand where he’d left it on the bed next to your head.

You were already wet, and you’d been ready for him to take you since he’d thrown you to the bed as soon as you crossed the threshold to his rooms. But he took his time, even in this intense state, to slide his fingers along your slick heat without giving you so much as an inch of the intrusion you were burning for.

The touch made your legs shake slightly. You were sensitive, having gone without his touch for over a day when you’d grown so spoiled by his hands being on you and in you after training every day.

You whined into the kiss, closing your legs to trap his hand between your thighs. He leaned back, breaking the contact at your mouths to gaze down at you. Without saying anything, he pressed a finger into you, only getting halfway inside because your thighs had clamped down on his wrist too strongly to move any further.

Panting breaths that were decidedly heavier than his, you slowly loosened your legs. Impatient, he lifted from his side and lay over you, using an arm to hold himself up. His knee forced your legs apart, and you were now aware of how painfully hard he was in his pants as it rested against your leg.

His finger plunged in completely, caressing you in practiced movements while his thumb played in your wetness. He dipped his head to pepper your chest in kisses and bites. You moaned into his hair, arching when he spread you further with a second finger.

Laying prone and writhing beneath him, you let his attentions bring you to a height so quickly that you didn’t realize you were already coming until it shook through your body in aching jerks of muscle. You tightened around his fingers and felt him shift above you, his cock brushing your thigh through his pants in hard movements.

He groaned low in his chest, stopping himself and pressing circles around your clit harder with the flat of his thumb. Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, your sensitive heat becoming overstimulated. He didn’t relent, and you felt the promise of another orgasm begin with a thick, winding sensation curling in you as hard as his fingers.

You wanted to ask if you could touch him but you couldn’t speak in anything but moans and breaths and the buck of your hips to urge him on. Hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, you bent a knee, lifting your leg to press it against his pulsing cock. This was a breach in the rules, touching him purposely, but you kept moving your thigh against him at the same steady pace that he delved his fingers into you.

Rocking against you, Ravus gave a low groan into the space between your breasts. He lifted his head to give you a hard, wet kiss before meeting your eyes. His were dark with want, his fingers pressing harder and swirling in your juices as he slightly shook above you.

“ _I love you_ ,” he uttered in thick Tenebraen, a growled whisper against your mouth.

His lips met yours again, and you felt yourself crumble from the inside out. Love and unrelenting lust coiled in you unfettered. You cried out into the quiet of his bedroom, his name on repeat as he tore a second climax out of you with his mouth on your collar and his fingers inside your clenching heat.

You shook harder than you ever had, the tears leaving your eyes and trailing down your temples. Breaths wracking your chest, you met Ravus’ eyes. He stilled above you, still hard against your leg but unmoving. Falling back to his side next to you, he withdrew his fingers and lifted them to his mouth. Eyes not leaving yours, he slid his fingers into his mouth and tasted your essence.

Your body felt like pure light or air, something infinitely free and full of uncontainable bliss. You fought the urge to ask for more. This had been exactly what you’d needed, his weeks of getting to know your body clearly paying off in a major way.

Curling onto your side, you pressed yourself against him to cuddle. It wasn’t your usual move, normally too overheated for this even in such a cold castle, but you wanted to be _close_ or something like it. Head pressing into his chest, you rested an arm over his waist and nuzzled into him.

It took a moment for him to catch up, his arm drawing you closer. He smoothed fingertips in featherlight touches along your back, down the curve of your backside and then up your waist in the slowest, gentlest circle. Your breaths evened out with his, but you could feel how hard he was in his pants even still. 

You snuggled closer to him, an inner fight waging in your mind between your want to please him and to respect his decision to be abstinent. This was a constant, but it was abnormally strong now with him next to you. Utilizing that same closeness, you anchored yourself to your shared breaths and let sleep take you.

—

**_Ignis:_ ** _I thought this would be of interest to you._

The message came with the image of a chocobo wearing a ridiculous hat. You paused in your walk across one of the bridges on the manor’s grounds to stare at it before a small laugh tumbled out of you. This was the absolute worst thing.

It had been a fair six weeks since you’d seen him off with the others at the train station, and his first point of contact was a nonsensical image. It wasn’t Ignis to send this, but it was also _very much_ Ignis to know that this was something you’d love.

You continued your walk, the smile on your face so wide it nearly hurt. His never-ending bid to remain in your life in some capacity would always be a weakness of yours, and you hoped that, this time, it was with true intent to be actual friends.

**_You:_ ** _This is life changing. Is that a show bird?_

**_Ignis:_ ** _Yes. His title is The Godfeather._

**_You:_ ** _I love him. I would die for him._

**_Ignis:_ ** _I anticipated such sentiment. Care to hear about the others that have been paraded in front of me today?_

**_You:_ ** _I have a big dinner thing soon. I could call you after?_

Your phone didn’t chime again until you were traversing through the halls of Fenestala Manor toward the dining room. You stopped just short of the entranceway,

**_Ignis:_ ** _I’d like for our contact to remain at this level of impersonal for now. I hope you understand._

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, ignoring the look of the guard that stood near the entrance, clearly wondering when you were going to enter the dining room so he could get the door. The boundary Ignis was placing up in the message solidified the point that he actually was serious about making amends in a healthier way. It was only a start, but it eased a very small background sense of anxiety you’d felt ever since the festival.

**_You:_ ** _Totally get it. Chocobo pictures and puns for now._

Silencing your phone, you placed it securely into a pocket and nodded at the guard to go ahead with the door. You needed to have a talk with Ravus at some point about what had happened with Ignis during their visit to the manor, but for now, you had more pressing issues.

Namely, the Oracle.

—

Sylva Nox Fleuret was a powerful woman. She induced both comfort and respect with her presence. Like Luna, her resting expression was a warm, polite smile. Like Ravus, her eyes were cutting and careful. You thought she was beautiful in the most unattainable way. Ethereal. You were grateful that merely being a duchess meant you wouldn’t have to live up to her. It would’ve been impossible.

She was already sitting when you approached the dining table. Ravus pulled out a chair on her right side for you, something he had _never_ done before, and waited for you to sit before going around to take the seat on the queen’s left. This felt orchestrated because it was. You weren’t supposed to sit directly next to him during this particular meeting. Sylva was meant to act as a mitigator between you as a way of ascertaining your compatibility.

She’d blessed your interest in Ravus but not your relationship as a whole. You hadn’t known until you’d read all of the dreadfully dull information sent to you that this dinner should’ve happened soon after your arrival to Tenebrae. The measure of patience the Oracle had must’ve been infinite.

Tension crept up your body at making the best impression you could, but there was almost no point. You’d met with her numerous times in other contexts and had almost always embarrassed yourself. Your past struggles had led you to her home the first time, in search of refuge and healing, so she knew you pretty well despite not actually knowing you.

You fully expected her to liken you to a stray cat Ravus had found, nursed to health, and wished to keep for his own. Something degrading of that nature because, no matter how dignified and benevolent a person she was, there was no way she thought you were good enough for her son.

Instead she asked about your life, how you were acclimating to Tenebrae, what your little neighborhood was like in the city. She spoke in Lucian for your benefit, and your every response was met with courteous banter you could hardly believe.

You tried your best to not swear or bring up anything untoward. Every time you met Ravus eyes, he held your attention for a few seconds before averting his gaze. He kept flipping and turning his unused salad fork in easy, fluid motions between his long fingers like he couldn’t quite keep still.

As you tried to remember how to place your own utensils on your plate to signal to the staff that you were done with your food, you heard Sylva clear her throat gently.

“My son, I haven’t seen you dally in such a way since you were a child.”

Her statement had him placing the fork down across his plate, and you quickly copied the way he’d done it with your own so you wouldn’t have to ruminate on that inane issue any longer. Curiously, you watched Ravus’ expression soften, his attention going from his mother to you. Then he drank from his glass of water, saying nothing in reply.

The dishes were finally carried away in that bit of silence, and Sylva looked between you and Ravus with her sharp eyes and soft smile.

“You’ve been training with one another, as I hear,” she said. “How has that been progressing?”

Before Ravus could say anything, you couldn’t help the words that fell out of your mouth. It was basically second nature.

“We’ve been pretty DTF lately.” Your eyes shifted from her to Ravus, who furrowed his brows in confusion. Oh, right. Neither of them would get this. You quickly tacked on in a pitiful type of explanation, “Down to fight.”

That had Ravus nodding, a serious look sent to the Oracle. “Yes. We’ve been quite DTF. She has done exceptionally well.”

“Well, I mean,” you said, smiling at this joke that was just for you alone to enjoy. “I’d probably get even better if you didn’t hold back so much.”

“Does he?” Sylva looked at you in surprise that morphed into seriousness when she turned to Ravus. “I thought you knew better than to hold back. You must be forceful and without relent and utilize aftercare where appropriate.”

You coughed a little on your water, gaining attention from them both. Ravus shifted in his seat, concern just breaching the surface of his expression. You lifted a hand to show you were okay, waving off the coughs that slowly died as you calmed.

Sylva gave you a long look. “I have a feeling you’ve something to say, dear girl.”

“Um… yes,” you said, clearing your throat after the bout of coughing. You didn’t know how she could guess that you’d been hoping to bring something up, but if she was going to just hand you the opportunity, you were grateful. “Your Majesty, I wanted to talk about a few of the things that I noticed in the texts you sent me. Some things that I think could be improved.”

Ravus’ gaze burned into your skin, but you ignored it in favor of keeping your eyes on the queen. Normally you didn’t meet her gaze, but this was important. You’d accepted that this was going to come off as rude, but you’d committed.

“Oh?” Sylva tilted her head. “What points could those be?”

“Well, for one, I don’t want to walk three steps behind Ravus.” You stopped from tapping your fingers on your glass, putting your hands in your lap. “I get that people wouldn’t want to see us tongue wrestling in public, but I think keeping _that_ much distance is absurd.”

You heard Ravus sigh but remained strong in your attention to the queen. Whatever displeased expression he was making at your blunt words was one you’d undoubtedly seen many times over.

“I believe,” Sylva began. “In this modern age, that is a fair request.”

You blinked, the tension from before finally easing way from you completely.

She considered you for a moment, then said, “I think we will find a compromise on this and any other issues you may find. Would you like to take this to my personal drawing room to confer over tea, woman to woman?”

Nodding, you felt disbelief but smiled at this concession. “That would be an honor.”

This was as good as a blessing to continue courting, according to the dense texts. If she didn’t think you were compatible, if she just didn’t _like_ you, she could’ve severed your relationship with Ravus by now. But she was humoring you.

On the way out of the dining room, Ravus gave you a look that was very hard to read as you parted ways just through the entrance. He went in the opposite direction down the corridor, and you almost walked into a statue while looking back at him over your shoulder.

Trying to maintain what dignity and composure you had, you followed after the Oracle.

—

You stepped into the private library somewhat drained. Ravus looked up from where he sat among the pillows, and you went to him with a small look of triumph and an even smaller feeling of trepidation because, after saying goodnight to the Oracle, you’d checked your phone to see more messages from Ignis.

It didn’t feel right replying to them until you made sure Ravus was entirely aware of everything that had transpired. Especially now that this was a more official start to your courtship. Weird to think that _you_ were essentially trying to win _him_ over. You didn’t care much for that since it implied that you could lose him.

Ravus shifted in the pillows. “How were the—”

“I have to tell you something,” you said, raising a hand to quiet him. As you lowered it, he closed his mouth, the book in his hands lowering to his lap. “Ignis proposed to me during the festival.”

Ravus gave you a lengthy look, to the point that you stepped forward in order to close the distance and end the silence. When you sat on the pillows next to him, he looked down at the book briefly, then met your eyes again.

“I’m well aware,” he said, not looking nearly as upset about it as you’d expected.

“Really?” You chewed on your lip, trying to think back to any clues he might’ve given that he’d known.

“Everything echoes in the manor.” He leaned toward you, kissing your forehead in a simple gesture that made your face flush. Drawing back, he looked down at his book and flipped it open again. “Remarkably so on silent days.”

He went back to reading, and you reclined in the pillows as you mulled over this. If he knew about the proposal, he knew your answer. You were suddenly realizing that either the staff or the Honorguard, or perhaps _everyone_ within the castle had to be reporting to Ravus in some way.

Yawning, you stretched a little and looked up at him. His eyes were quick-moving along the page, and his mouth had curved slightly with a soft smile. He’d been waiting for you to tell him in your own time, and though you didn’t like that this felt like some sort of test, you did enjoy the look on his face.

You closed your eyes, burning the image of his soft smile into your mind. It was meant to be a mere moment to rest your eyes, but you fell into an easy rest. You stirred quietly to a hard sigh. Eyes fluttering open, the first thing you saw was a hand moving in the air, joined by another in vaguely familiar motions.

_Yours. Yours. Yours._

Ravus kept repeating the hand sign, then another.

_Daughter. Your daughter._

He didn’t seem to notice that you’d woken up, turning his scowl down to a small book in his lap. Seeing him making these familiar gestures brought forth the thought that you must still be dreaming. You watched silently as he repeated the signs again, this time with more confidence.

_May I with your daughter?_

It only seemed to frustrate him, though, another heavy sigh forcing its way out of him. He closed the book and pinched the bridge of his nose. As his jaw tightened, you decided it was time to get up. Stretching your entire body along the cushions, you made a soft noise as you sat up.

You pretended not to notice him smoothly slide the little book between two others he had resting on a nearby shelf. “Is it time for bed yet? We could give your mom’s advice to be relentless and forceful a try.”

Unamused, Ravus picked up the short stack of books and stood. Although not being obvious about it, he kept the Lucian Sign Language book out of view. “In the interest of keeping in my mother’s good graces, I don’t think we should test her by sharing my bed tonight.”

You nodded slowly, mind still stuck on the signs he’d been practicing while you slept. That was something you would have to process later. For now, you pushed yourself up from the cushions and stretched fully, easing your sore muscles.

He watched you stretch, and you enjoyed it, wishing he could read it in your body language that his hands were always invited to touch wherever his eyes fell.

Stepping close to him, you didn’t let the barrier of the books in his hand discourage the flirtatious smile that crossed your face. “We can share a library but not a bed?”

He held your gaze. “They’re vastly different.”

You touched his arms, leaning into him. “We don’t need a bed, papa-gâteau. Just an hour and an empty room.”

His breath subtly picked up when you slid your hands up to his shoulders. He shook his head, his silver hair falling over your hands. It was so soft, unlike his hard look. “Not tonight. You should return home and prepare for our journey.”

Falling away from him, you gave up the tease for now. He was right. You had to get ready for the trip to Niflheim. Time spent trying and ultimately failing to seduce him was wasted when you were supposed to be bracing yourself as emotional support for Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Elathepenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elathepenn/pseuds/Elathepenn) drew some [NSFW Ravus](https://ohdaim.tumblr.com/post/183252693788/my-wonderful-and-talented-friend-elathepenn-drew) that goes perfectly with the bath scene (and then some >_>;;).
> 
> Thanks for reading. <3


	7. Give a wolf a taste of your leg, and he’ll ask for your hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** for some rough (as in the writing) smut, something that might be considered face fucking, and this writer's continual avoidance of actual fight scenes. :)

Your cup rattled on the table in front of you. Nearly empty, it made a consistent _tink, tink, tink_ on the tabletop that served as the background noise to the silence that sat between everyone at the table. Icy, barren sprawls of land whipped by through the window.

Prompto’s foot tapped on the floor while Aranea’s fingers drummed along the back of the seat behind his head, her arm thrown over it casually. She and Ravus had you and Prompto trapped in the booth, nothing but the indistinct chatter of the dining car and the barren landscape to draw your focus.

Not much had been said since you and Ravus had stepped onto the train just hours before. The new year had rang in the night before with little celebration as you’d prepared for the trip. It was a ten hour leg, and, only being three deep, you were feeling antsy.

A quiet Prompto was a worry for you, but what else could he be but a little broody with so many unknowns on the horizon. You kept poking his leg with your foot to stop his fidgeting, but it would begin again within minutes.

“Wanna stretch your legs with me?” you asked him, tearing your eyes from your shaky glass of water.

He shook his head. “Nah, go ahead. My stomach is killing me. Don’t really wanna move yet.”

Aranea slid out of the booth. “I’ll go, kid. Anything to get away from seeing you rubbing Ravus’ thigh for another agonizing second.”

You lifted your hand from where it had been resting near his knee. It had been innocent, the booths not providing much room. Prompto snickered, looking out the window instead of adding to the taunting.

Yeah, that was a huge sign that he had a lot on his mind.

Ravus stood to let you out, his face the barest twinge of pink just along his cheeks but expression otherwise unreadable. You touched his elbow as you passed him, sliding your hand down his arm slowly. The thin sweater he wore was downright menacing in how it put his body on display. Niflheim didn’t allow any sort of religious propaganda, so his travel wardrobe was simplified and casual. You loved it, but it was also far too distracting.

Keeping a step behind Aranea, you followed her to the next car back, a quieter space where less people occupied the seats and words were spoken in low tones.

That didn’t stop Aranea from saying, “Spill it. Have you taken Ravus for a ride yet?”

You sat next to her on a back-facing seat. “What about never getting past his self-imposed chastity belt?”

“Huh-uh.” She shook her head. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve never seen that man so comfortable being squished in a booth with someone.” Then she chuckled. “Not sure I’ve _ever_ seen him comfortable. Period.”

You stretched your legs in the wider space allowed in this car, reclining a little. “Well, I’ve got nothing.”

She snapped her fingers. “Nope. Two people aren’t that handsy unless they’ve done something. Knowing you, you sat on his face or accidentally got him high.”

Someone nearby coughed, and you sank in your seat with a laugh. “Why do you care so much? You’ve _never_ asked me about my conquests.”

“Because they were never childhood friends of mine.”

Pulling at the hem of your shirt, you considered this. “Um. He’s good with his hands.”

Aranea didn’t say anything at first, so you looked over only to find her giving you a raised brow. “That’s cute.” You rolled your eyes, and she chuckled again. “No, really. It’s sweet that you’ve gotten even that far.”

“Thanks so much.” You looked past her at the landscape beyond the window. Snowy and painted in shades of white and grey, it seemed to go on forever.

Aranea rested her head back; you could see it in your peripheral. “It’s like him to play it safe. I don’t love your situation, but you could do a lot worse.”

You didn’t care what she thought of it. You _had_ done worse, and she knew it. It was safe to say almost all of your previous experiences had been worse. Going on nearly a year, the fact that you’d _yet_ to sleep with Ravus was something you were strangely gratified by.

Standing up, you smiled down at her. “Are you saying we don’t have your blessing?”

The windows suddenly blackened as the train passed into a tunnel. Aranea stood up next with a smirk of her own. The yellow lights above flickered as she threw an arm over your shoulder. “Just don’t expect me to kiss your ass when things get serious.”

You began the walk back to the dining car, the brief walk just enough to get your blood moving. There was a lingering thought in the back of your mind that it hadn’t been the best idea leaving Prompto and Ravus alone. You could just _imagine_ the awkward silence you and Aranea had left in your wake.

“If you want to get past fingering,” Aranea began, dropping her arm when you shrugged it off. “I’m sure there are ways to get his mouth on you.”

You slid the door to the dining car open, wondering vaguely how bored Aranea must be to be extending this conversation when before, she’d had a hard time even imagining Ravus would so much as touch you sexually. You looked at her over your shoulder, stopping in the doorway.

“Who says it’s just fingers? Maybe I’ve got his juicy balls slapping me in the face every night.”

“Do you?” She laughed, pushing you forward so she could step into the car with you.

Not answering, you looked at the booth where you’d left your best friend and boyfriend. Although you couldn’t hear it through the din of the car, Prompto was saying something to the other man, eyebrows raised, mouth moving fast, and hand making a vague motion in the air before carding through his blond hair. Ravus was impossible to read, his back toward you, but he must’ve said something because Prompto nodded, his gaze falling down to his hand on the table.

Your focus on this exchange was disrupted by Aranea brushing past you, a smirk firmly planted on her face. “Maybe I could ask him myself. Figure out what it’ll take to have him feasting on my cute little previous tenant.”

A flash of embarrassment had you blushing and quickly following after her. “Aranea, why?” She hadn’t picked on you like this in ages, not since your days of letting people pass through your apartment, sometimes more than one per day.

Ravus looked over his shoulder as you approached, his sharp features coloring with curiosity over your flustering. “Something wrong?”

Aranea jerked a thumb in your direction. “Just plotting ways to get your tongue in our girl.”

You slapped hands over your face and heard Prompto snicker. This was a new level of mean coming from Aranea. Whether it was her disapproval of your relationship or an odd sort of acceptance, you didn’t know. Pushing past the discomfort, you dropped your hands.

Ravus had stood to let you return to your seat from before, and you slid back into the booth with a blush that only burned brighter at the way his eyes seemed to analyze you. Ravus was thinking heavily; that’s what that look meant. Weird to think that Aranea was seriously planting that seed in his mind.

Ravus would _never_ … would he?

“So,” you said, maybe too loudly. “What were _you_ guys talking about?”

Prompto’s smile waned a little, his eyes flitting between you and Ravus. “Uh, h-he was just telling me he knows how to speak Nif so we should be cool to split up if we need to.”

You glanced up at Ravus, surprised he’d never mentioned this. “How many languages do you know, papa-gâteau?”

“Four,” he said, his eyes shifting away from you. “Although, I’m hoping to expand my knowledge.”

You smiled, touched at the casual mention of his sign language practice. He was only hinting, but it warmed you nonetheless. Touching his leg, you squeezed gently. “You’re always impressing me.”

Meeting your eyes again, he searched your face. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, but, once again, Aranea disrupted the flow of things.

“He’s real impressive,” she said. “You could say he’s a cunning linguist.”

Ravus tensed, and you smiled despite yourself, leaning into him to hide your quiet laughter in the softness of his shirt sleeve.

—

Gralea, situated within a crater, was immediately uncomfortable in its sterile, abrasive levels of foreignness. Where Altissia was romantic and Tenebrae was magical, Gralea was… tense. Stepping off the train didn’t land you in an outdoor platform like every other stop on the line. Keeping just behind Prompto, you walked with everyone else out of the train and into a high-ceilinged room with guards, rows of waist-high tables, and little else.

Being pushed into lines, Aranea led you to an area separate from everyone else. As she spoke to a guard, or rather a border agent, according to their badge, you felt Ravus close behind you. He touched your hand, not grabbing, just the barest smooth of his fingertips down your palm to remind you that he was there.

“Move forward, my crevette,” he urged softly.

You realized you’d been distracted by his touch, and both Aranea and Prompto were waiting on the other side of a gateway ahead. The border agent looked at you warily, and you knew before they even stepped forward that your moment of distraction was somehow taken as suspicious behavior.

They stopped you with a hand on your elbow as you went through the gate. “Identification. Now.”

The accent was already gruff because of the nature of Niflheimish, but you felt like you were purposely being intimidated. Their hand clamped down on your elbow when you didn’t do anything for a moment.

“Identification. Show me _now_.”

Because all of your bags had required pre-inspection, you’d held everything important you might’ve needed in a an inner pocket of your coat. Ravus said something to the agent while you searched for some form of ID. They let go of your arm, and just as you were pulling out your passport, Ravus’ hand was pressing at the curve of your back.

“What—”

“Shh, go.” Ravus moved you forward, his arm drawing around you as you both neared the doorway that Aranea and Prompto had already disappeared down. Through a long, uniformly plain hallway, you picked up your luggage and finally stepped outside.

Upon immediate reception, the city was bleak. The nearest buildings looked derelict, but people busied the streets, suggesting that things were run down out of overuse rather than abandonment. Cold air whipped at you, snow falling in heavy flakes and catching in your hair and on your coat.

“I’ve already told Argentum,” Ravus said, letting the doors slam shut behind him. “Unless absolutely necessary, never reveal that you are Lucian.”

Just down the sidewalk, Aranea was hailing a ride. Weird that a supposed diplomat wouldn’t get a private car to pick her up when returning to her own country. You nodded at Ravus’ advisement and went for the cab that slowed to a stop near the curb.

“Remember to keep your tattoo hidden at—”

“At all times, I know,” you cut him off, tossing your bag into the trunk of the car right after Prompto. Ravus placed his in more carefully, a frown cutting his face. You grabbed his sleeve, to stop him from walking around to get inside. “Since when do you worry so much?”

He put his hand on yours, his expression unfailingly serious. “This is in no way a vacation. Be careful of what you say and do.”

Slower this time, you nodded again. He’d given you a general rundown before you’d even boarded the train, and before that, you’d done minor research for anything to be in the know about. All of the precaution was born of an altercation that had happened decades before you were born, international conflict that had been swept under the rug involving a Lucian inciting an uprising within the masses of Gralea.

The disparate living conditions and class troubles had culminated into major strife, shouldered and spearheaded by the Lucian, who was eventually assassinated. Now xenophobia and radicalism prevailed in the aftermath and no Lucian was allowed to step on Niflheim soil without a native guide to “keep them in check”.

You didn’t consider this a vacation, but you also thought Ravus was giving in to the same biases that all Tenebraens seemed to have about their neighboring empire. So you took his advice with a grain of salt. It was doubtful you’d run into trouble.

You were unarmed, wearing a scarf with cactuars on it, and couldn’t speak or read a single word of the local language; how threatening could anyone possibly find you?

—

Your anxiety did suffer a sudden spike when Ravus parted from the rest of you. When he spoke with Aranea, you had no idea what they said, using brusque Niflheimish. Prompto shrugged when you looked at him, and all you could catch of the exchange was the mention of the emperor, Aldercapt, who you assumed Ravus was obligated to meet with.

Ravus kissed your hand before continuing on in the cab while the rest of you were left outside the hostel Prompto had booked for himself and you. Between Prompto looking away awkwardly and Aranea shaking her head, you wished he’d just kissed you properly if you were going to be embarrassed by it anyway.

His departure seemed to bring on more snow somehow, the sky, already dark with clouds, growing deeper shades of grey as the snow fell even more heavily around you.

Aranea was only there to check you into the hostel, being your guide. The proprietor was a surly-looking man who, once Aranea left for the night, said only the words “You come” over and over as he showed you where you’d be resting.

Past a large bunk room full of beds, some stacked atop each other in uniform neatness, you were taken to a smaller space of only two bunks, one on each wall. A man already occupied the space, lounging on one of the lower beds, and you offered him a polite smile as you placed your bag down and began to get ready to sleep.

The stranger began to grate on your nerves, so fascinated by you and Prompto that he wouldn’t stop staring. Right before you felt yourself snap, he spoke up.

“Are you Lucian?” His accent was hard to place, but you couldn’t think too deeply about it when faced with such a bold question.

Prompto, to his credit, didn’t say anything. He looked at you, opening his mouth but only to release a breath. You touched his arm, then cleared your throat and looked at the strange man.

In smooth Altissian, you asked, “ _What did you say_?”

The man’s face grew more curious, a smile appearing around the piece of jerky he chewed on. You had no reason to assume he knew Altissian, but it was the only thing you could think of on the spot. A hope of throwing him off.

“ _Oh. Accordan, then?_ ”

You nodded, sitting on your bed to take off your boots. Prompto climbed up to the bed above you, and the man’s gaze lingered on him. “ _Your boyfriend looks like a Nif. Visiting his family?_ ”

Biting back a snipe about minding his own business, you shrugged. “ _Something like that._ ”

The next hour passed in that fashion, Prompto only speaking to you through text messages while the stranger probed you with question after question that you either avoided or lied directly about when answering. It was all very banal, to the point of annoying almost.

Until you were startled awake in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t the harsh nature of the words or the knees that bumped against your bed that suddenly woke you. It was the sound Prompto made, the sudden outcry that you’d heard only once before when a particularly nasty sabertusk had almost killed him in northern Leide.

Another cry, broken by coughs, then the bed above you began to rattle, hitting the wall with a hollow _clank, clank, clank._ It spurred you to sit up, sending a fist into the crotch of the person harassing Prompto. The stranger fell back, and you scrambled out of the bed, stepping on them in your rush to check on Prompto.

His back was against the wall, a hand to his neck. You couldn’t make out much in the dim light, but hated the sound of his shuttered breaths.

“Are you okay?” You reached for him, touching his leg with one hand and a warm, wet spot on the bed with the other. Thinking quickly, or maybe not at all, you said, “C-come on. We’re leaving.”

Something jerked you by the hair, and you stumbled back against someone who took you into a tight chokehold. Hot breath that reeked of stale meat hit the side of your face.

“I knew you were Lucian,” the stranger spoke, his voice sounding like it held a smile.

Something sharp pressed against your side, digging past your sweatshirt and piercing your skin. As panic began to overhaul your mind, a flash of light burst in front of Prompto. Suddenly, both confused and afraid, you watched a gun spring into existence in his hand, the other held firmly against his temple now.

“Let her go,” he ground out, cocking the gun with a solid _click._

The arm around your throat tensed for a second, then eased, and the blade in your side pulled away. Jerking out of the stranger’s grip, you grabbed your bags from the foot of your bed with shaky hands. Prompto climbed down, keeping the gun aimed at the man while you threw the strap of your bag over a shoulder and shoved your bare feet into your boots.

You didn’t bother lacing up, grabbing Prompto’s arm with your free hand while the other hefted his pack. “Let’s _go_.”

Prompto’s aim was shaky, but the stranger didn’t make a move as you backed out of the room. You took off in a run once in the main bunk room, busting into the lobby, past the surly proprietor, and into the cold night.

The streetlights bathed the block in shades of blue, and you stopped underneath one just down the corner from the hostel. The first thing you noticed was the gash on Prompto’s head. The gun in his hand disappeared as you dropped his bag to look at the injury.

He tilted his head away, wincing. “Dude, are _you_ okay?”

How could he have the gods damned audacity to ask you that when he had blood dripping down his temple and a long, shallow cut at his throat? You didn’t answer, trying again to get a better look at him. When he shifted away again, you scowled and dug into your bag for your phone.

It wasn’t until you were waiting for Ravus to pick you up that you realized you’d left your charger in the hostel. And your coat. And your cactuar scarf. There was no fucking way you were going back.

“It is three in the morning,” Ravus said by way of answering.

“Will you come get us?” You shivered as a freezing wind blew past, and you became extremely aware of the cut in your side. “Please.”

—

Ravus wasn’t staying at the embassy liked you’d thought. Probably because there wasn’t one. From the moment he’d found you and Prompto standing in the snow on the corner, he’d had the most pissed off look on his face, and for the first time ever, you thought he might yell at you.

He’d healed Prompto’s cuts on the ride to the hotel he was staying in, only asking just why the hell you’d both thought a hostel would be a good idea and then making it clear that _because it was cheapest_ wasn’t a good enough excuse.

Like most people you’d encountered in Gralea so far, the concierge of the hotel gave you and Prompto intensely wary looks. Ravus spoke to them while you both stood by. It was a relief to see Prompto healed, you thought, sending him a soft smile that he returned.

The concierge said something loudly all of a sudden, and Ravus sighed, drawing both of your attention. Looking back for a moment, Ravus pointed at Prompto and said to the concierge, “Mein bruder.”

Crossing their arms, the concierge looked between the men, then nodded toward you. They asked something, and you heard “Lucian” in there somewhere. You were beginning to regret how hard you’d assured Aranea that you’d be okay without her for a single night. Clearly that wasn’t the case.

Ravus glanced back again, and you gave him a small, reassuring smile. Turning to the concierge, he said, “Meine frau. Beide Tenebraen.”

When the finely dressed host peered at you next, you nodded, hoping you were catching on correctly with what little you understood.

“Oui,” you said with a tiny wave.

Once convinced, the concierge gave a key to Ravus, which he handed to Prompto on the way to the elevator. He waited until the doors closed to speak.

“I’ve gotten you a room next to mine.” He looked at Prompto with a hard frown. “Rest and allow me to look at your wounds first thing in the morning to ensure they heal correctly and completely.”

Prompto nodded, scratching his neck. The long line of where he’d been cut was still bright pink, freshly closed with dried blood around it.

“Take a shower first,” you said, hitting his arm with the back of your hand. “You look gnarly.”

He dropped his hand and opened his mouth to say something. The _ding_ and shuttering stop of the elevator seemed to make him rethink it, and he was the first to step out, looking for the room number that matched his key.

Ravus, holding both of your bags, kept sending you sharp glances. Neither of you had told him exactly what had happened. You didn’t have to; there was no need. Ravus seemed to think you were going to stay in Prompto’s room, dropping both of your bags near the bed in the center of the room.

You shook your head, lifting yours and giving Prompto a serious look. “We’re gonna talk about that magic gun thing later.”

After a hug, you left him alone to rest and went one room over with Ravus. He didn’t say anything as you let your bag fall to the floor on your way to the bed. He didn’t say anything when, finally warm in the heated room, you pulled your sweatshirt over your head. You hissed, touching the shallow cut in your side.

Ravus made you sit, mending the cut and drawing you close afterward. He finally spoke into your hair, his voice quiet. “You are such a messy thing. No one knows how to take care of you.”

“You do.”

With a contented sigh, he pulled you onto the bed with him. “When you allow me.”

—

You’d never been inside a prison, maximum security or not. So you’d arrived with the others and no expectations. The layers of precaution meant your time to visit was limited, a portion of it spent just getting to the meeting space.

You were held up at a large set of metal detectors, the thing going off twice before a guard patted you down. The underwire of your bra was setting it off, and to get through, you were told you had to remove it. You brushed off Prompto’s apology —none of this was his fault— and took off the lacy piece right there.

Ravus scowled when the guard took it from you, finally allowing you through. He gave you his jacket, a nice leather thing that you had never seen in your life, which you slid into with tempered eagerness. The gesture was clearly to help you maintain your modesty, but all you really cared about was how it smelled like him.

Prompto’s father was even older and rougher-looking than you could’ve guessed. A guard stood next to his table, within reach if he decided to do anything suspicious, you supposed. The guard at the door told you only two at a time could sit at the table with him, so Aranea and Ravus stayed back while you and Prompto approached.

The man’s wrinkled face twisted with a smile when Prompto sat, and you were thankful for the guard because, despite being attacked only hours before, this was the least safe you’d felt since arriving to the empire. You took the seat next to Prompto, holding Ravus’ jacket about yourself better to keep from feeling exposed in your bra-less state.

“Are you both mine?” The man’s voice was guttural and scratchy, heavy with an accent. You were surprised he spoke Lucian and further surprised that he would even assume you were his kid.

“I came to ask some questions,” Prompto said. He sounded more sure of himself than he had the entire trip.

“Tell me, son, are you as quick and skilled as I made you to be?” Besithia placed his hands atop the table, connected by a pair of thick handcuffs, fingers spread as if grasping.

Prompto tensed next to you, his back growing straight. The short visit felt very long by the time you were escorted out of the visitation room. Prompto’s questions, for the most part, were indirectly answered. But much of the meeting was spent with you sitting silently while Prompto and Besithia seemed to carry on two different one-sided conversations.

The information only came in out-of-order bits, that Prompto’s mother had been young, Besithia’s lab assistant. He’d been researching genetics for a private company, and once leaving that team, had worked on his own, bringing the assistant with him.

He’d posed as a fertility doctor, impregnating women with his own semen for over a decade before getting caught. Most details had to be off, the product of an already mentally unbalanced mind that could only have degraded from twenty years of imprisonment. His ideologies were deranged, and when Prompto had ripped his sleeve up to confront him about the tattoo, the man had laughed and preened over how proud of his work he’d been. That he was counting down the days until Prompto and all the rest in the supposed “army” he’d built would propagate a new age.

It was completely insane bullshit.

Prompto was silent when leaving, as despondent as expected of someone who’d spent hours demanding answers from someone whose brilliance had become disassembled thoughts of world domination.

After a detour for you to privately put your bra back on, the four of you took dinner in a restaurant not far from the hotel. You didn’t know what to say, shooting glances at Prompto every minute while Ravus and Aranea spoke to the server and each other.

“I’m going to see my brother,” Prompto said quietly, staring down at the untouched food on his plate.

You hurt for him, at the lack of real answers and added disturbance he’d gotten out of the visit. His brother had made his peace years prior, had no intention of looking for Prompto, and thought Prompto better off for having been taken to Insomnia when their father was imprisoned.

Prompto pushed his chair back, but Ravus caught the back edge of it with a hard grip. Aranea pointed at his plate. “I’ll take you wherever you want, but you have to eat first.”

Ravus nodded, bringing the chair back to the table with a hard jerk of his arm. When he let go of Prompto’s chair and glanced your way, you smiled and wondered where this was coming from. He’d just spent hours sitting in silence with Aranea listening to Prompto try to carry a conversation with a psychopath. What little care he had for Prompto could’ve only disappeared in that time. Yet he was here.

—

Prompto wanting to go to his brother’s without you didn’t come as much of a surprise. He had, unfortunately, taken on the idea that he’d imposed this terrible experience on you, and wanted to face the rest of it on his own. While you weren’t in agreement with that one bit, you didn’t argue with him when you parted ways outside the restaurant.

Aranea went with him as promised, and you trudged through the unceasing snow with Ravus to the hotel where you planned to stay until it was time to leave Niflheim altogether.

“I despise this place.”

It was the first thing Ravus had said to you since asking you how you felt upon waking that morning. Things had become busy, one event meshing into another, from Ravus checking Prompto over for any remaining injuries before breakfast to the hassle of getting into the prison.

Dinner had been the closest you could’ve gotten to conversation, but your attention had been dominated by worry over Prompto. Plus, there were eyes everywhere. Just speaking Lucian seemed like means enough to those around to report you to someone higher, to someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you like the man at the hostel had.

Gralea didn’t hold the kind of threatening atmosphere you’d expected after all of your training. It was grim. Its people were most definitely always ready to fight, but it wasn’t exciting. It was scary.

“Me, too,” you agreed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair in the hotel room. “Good thing we leave tomorrow.”

Flopping onto the bed, you turned on the tv and went through what channels were offered. The room was nicely furnished, but that was offset by the framed picture of Emperor Aldercapt that sat on one of the nightstands.

Ravus knocked it with a hand, flipping it face down, when he noticed you giving it an uncomfortable look. He settled next to you against the headboard, drawing you to his side. “You can’t escape the propaganda no matter where you go. Oppression by suffocation and brainwashing.”

You went back to flipping through the channels. “How did Aranea get out?”

Ravus seemed to think. “She served in the military from a young age. Younger than what’s acceptable. She was assigned Luna’s bodyguard during a visit when I was thirteen.” His tone grew thoughtful as he spoke, as if remembering everything with every word out of his mouth. “I made a bid for her to leave with us, and Aldercapt accepted.”

You stared at him. “She’s been working for _you_ this whole time?”

He blinked, confusion marking his features. “She’s an independent contractor. She works for many but serves only herself.”

Sending him your own look of confusion, you tried to get something out of that idirect answer but came up empty handed. You shook your head, knowing more about Aranea than ever while knowing almost nothing at the same time.

A very familiar scene came onto the tv for a flash of a moment as you clicked through, and you went back, surprised to see the drama you’d worked on airing in such a closed off country. You set the remote down and leaned into Ravus’ hold. “It’s my show. Wanna watch?”

He didn’t respond because it had already been decided. The warmth and comfort of his hold made you forget for a while, the strange experience this trip had been so far. Luckily, the episode playing was early on in the season, and although the network was showing them out of order, after three hour-long episodes, you thought Ravus was finally beginning to understand the plot.

Somewhat.

Maybe.

“Is she, too, a vampire?” he asked when a woman appeared on the screen.

“No, she’s human.”

“Are vampires not augmented humans?”

You tilted your head and met his eyes. “I guess? But she’s not. She’s like, the one _everyone_ wants.”

“Because she’s a virgin?”

Astrals, he was full of questions. “Uh, pretty much.” You didn’t want to spoil him, not that he’d even care, but her virginity plot point was obliterated by the end of the season.

It turned out you didn’t have to hold in that fact for long because the very next episode to come on was the finale, which opened with a bare-assed sex scene. With how hard Ravus blinked and the growing blush on his face, you’d think he considered this admittedly softcore scene actual porn.

Then you thought, as he shifted uncomfortably beside you, that it was pretty likely that Ravus had never actually _seen_ porn before.

“Y’know,” you leaned closer to him, not drawing attention to his flustered state even though you thought it was the cutest fucking thing. “We shot this scene that day you came to visit. Like, early that morning.”

“You were there?” He cleared his throat, his voice deep, resonating through his chest and against your head. “When they were having sex?”

“They’re not _really_ doing it,” you said, biting back a laugh. “They’re just good actors. It’s simulated.”

Ravus was frowning when you looked at him, his face even redder, a blush along his skin that went beneath the collar of his shirt.

Oh, what a sweet summer child. You loved him.

As the couple on screen began pillow talk before the inevitable attack from other vampires, you put a hand on Ravus’ thigh. Just testing the waters. This was child’s play as far as getting through the bases for you.

He put a hand over yours, but didn’t push it away. His eyes remained focused on the tv, not deviating even when your hand gently squeezed his thigh.

You waited for an ad break —classy— to slide your hand farther up. His hand caught yours, lifting it to his lips. He didn’t kiss, though, just holding it there, his eyes falling closed. After a beat, he lowered your hand, and his eyes slowly opened.

“I’m going to shower.”

You were knocked back a little as he pushed himself up, standing from the bed. Your jaw dropped slightly, eyes following him as he strode across the room and closed himself away in the bathroom. The _click_ of the lock made you raise a brow. Did he think you’d be desperate enough to try to join him in the shower? You were, but that wasn’t the point.

The show came back on, but your mind was elsewhere now. You muted the tv when the sound of the shower kicked on. Was he… He couldn’t be…

You stretched out on the bed, telling yourself it was ridiculous. The scene hadn’t been all that sexy, really. Besides…

_I don’t touch myself, as a rule._

If he allowed himself even that simple pleasure, he would’ve shown that side of himself to you by now. Right? Rather than work yourself into a worry, probably over nothing, you rolled off the bed and dug into your bag for something to sleep in. In an ideal world, you’d wear nothing at all, but in an ideal world, Ravus wouldn’t have stopped your wandering hand to take an impromptu shower.

You pulled off your shirt, then tugged down your pants. The grotesque face of a person on the tv being changed into a vampire made you roll your eyes. You leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed the remote, righting yourself as you switched off the tv. Ravus was likely done watching; the sex scene had probably stretched his limits. The entire day probably had.

Gods knew _you_ were counting the hours until you left this terrible city.

The shower cut off as you unhooked the clasp of your bra. You bit your lip, considering the simple t-shirt you’d chosen to sleep in. Forgoing that, you slipped out of your panties and crawled into bed fully nude. Maybe it wasn’t an ideal world, but you _did_ control some things, at least.

Blankets drawn over yourself, you settled in comfortably. All lights were off but the one by the bed. When Ravus stepped out of the bathroom, you were mildly startled to see him walk out with only a towel in his hands that worked to dry his hair and nothing else. Steam wafted around him, spilling from the open doorway along with the light that backlit his form.

Ravus turned the light off with the flick of his finger on the switch as he passed, and he was cast in the softer light of the room as he crossed it toward you.

“I want to taste you,” he said without ceremony.

Sitting up, you stared at him. This threw you off. How had he gotten this thought out of the sex scene, or was it something he’d been thinking about for a while?

“Only if I can taste you first,” you said. “Anywhere I want. You deserve…” He deserved it, too.

Technically, if you used only your hands —and _maybe_ your mouth— to make him come undone, that wasn’t sex. It was all semantics. It wasn’t sex, and it wasn’t masturbation, so he wouldn’t be breaking his vow. You just— you wanted to _love_ him so badly while respecting his promise that you might’ve spent far too much of your free time deliberating this very thing.

Ravus pulled you from your thoughts with a nod. “Alright. If it pleases you.”

You fought an eye roll. Of course it pleased you. Hopefully, it would please him, too. If not, you felt you’d have a real reason to be worried.

He tossed the towel aside, running a hand through his damp hair as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “How would you have me?”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest. He was making it weird; because of course. You leaned toward him, the blanket falling and pooling around your waist. “Come here.”

He listened, getting in next to you and sitting much like before. But nude. Sexy. Nice.

Your mind grew blank. You had a hand on his stomach and your head on his chest, but no idea what to do next. The open nature of his sudden relent to your wishes had you frozen.

“Ma crevette.” Ravus curled his index finger, using it to catch under your chin and tilt your head upward. His eyes considered you, soft but quick in their movement about your face. “Will you not touch me?”

Oh.

Tilting your head up more, you caught his mouth in a kiss. Your hand smoothed down the muscles of his stomach, appreciating every dip and curve on its way down. His arm curled at your waist, holding you tighter as his mouth worked with yours in wet tandem, tongue delving between your lips to meet yours.

He’d grown hard, halfway to something you could work with. Your fingertips traced along the head, then down the underside, and he groaned into the kiss. You broke the contact, keeping your eyes locked with his. Feeling him twitch against your palm, you gripped him lightly and whispered, “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding your gorgeous body from me all this time.”

You drew your hand over the length of his cock slowly, enjoying the feel of every ridge and the silky smoothness of his skin. His eyes were trained on yours, his face flush with a lovely pink. He grew harder with every stroke of your hand, his breathing short and quick. Leaving him, you kept your hand around him but pushed the blankets away, straddling his legs to get a better look at him now that you finally could.

Slightly red and pulsing with light veins, it was heavy in your hand. You ran the pad of your thumb around the head in a gentle circle, then brought the index finger of your free hand to the tip, brushing the precum off. You met Ravus’ eyes as you sucked it from your finger. Slightly sweet, it was pleasant on your tongue. His breath hitched, his broad chest halting as you slowly worked his shaft again and drew your finger from your mouth with a pleased sound.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” you said, the endearment coming without thought. Your thumb spread the new bead of precum that had gathered, slicking it around the soft head. Ravus’ hands balled into fists in the sheets at his sides, a hard breath forcing its way out of him.

You took in his lidded eyes and the deep flush that spread down his chest. “Can I keep going?”

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was another shaky breath. You brought your second hand to him, gripping just below your other. In smooth twisting motions, you massaged him, eyes flicking between the rigid cock in your hands and his beautifully flushed face.

Wet and hot between your legs, you ached for him. You slid one hand over his entire length, removing the other to trace over the head again, trying to imagine how it would feel inside. Your fingertip went around the ridge, then teased at the softest place just along the underside. Ravus shifted hard, his hips jerking. His heavy panting became a low moan, and you lowered your attention to knead his balls.

A large hand came to your cheek, and Ravus leaned forward to smash a kiss to your mouth. His other hand found purchase at your waist, and you shifted on his lap, getting closer to him. He nipped at your lip, pulling at it as he broke the kiss. His eyes were dark and focused on you intensely. The motion of your hand at his cock slowed, his gaze distracting you momentarily.

His hand left your cheek, falling to skate fingertips lightly down the curve of a breast before sliding down your stomach. More precum wet your hand, sticking between your fingers when you slid your palm over the head before returning to the same steady rhythm you’d had.

Both hands digging fingers into your hips, Ravus rested his head back, chest rocking with each breath. You pumped your hand harder, wishing you could commit the sight of him unravelling to your memory permanently. Lifting your hand from his balls, you moved just a little closer and rested it at his shoulder.

His cock was so taut, it fought your motions, wanting to rest against his abs. As you handled him with steady jerks of your wrist, your fingers sticky and thumb teasing the little slit at its head, you held it upright. It pressed against your navel when you bent forward to kiss the arch of Ravus’ neck. He righted his head, breaths mingling with yours. His hands at your hips gripped harder.

Letting go of his cock, you pressed forward, straddling his lap completely. This might’ve been pushing it, testing his boundaries so directly with no permission given. His eyes, lidded but focused, remained steady on yours. Rolling your hips, you slid over him, the shaft of his cock parting your lips and rubbing against your slick heat. His hands held even tighter at your hips, but he didn’t stop you from doing it again.

You gripped at his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin, falling apart a little as you rocked yourself against him. You felt every ridge of his cock move against you with slick friction, brushing your thighs and slipping closer and closer to entering you with every shift of your body against his.

“R-Ravus,” you breathed, stopping with your toes curled and his cock pulsing against your drenched heat. “Let me ride you.”

His eyes had fallen closed in your teasing, and he opened them to search yours.

With another roll of your hips, you added a breathy, “Please.”

He grunted, brows furrowing and grip at your hips becoming painful. Without words, he nodded and leaned forward to kiss you deeply. You melted against him in that moment, letting him explore your mouth and pressing fully against his chest. When he broke the kiss, it was with a soft, assured smile.

Using your hold at one of his shoulders to steady yourself, you lifted up from his lap slightly and took his cock in your free hand. The head brushed against you, sliding around in your wetness in a controlled, back and forth motion that made you whimper.

“Can you—” Swallowing hard, you kept your eyes locked on his and teased yourself with his cock. “Can you feel what you do to me?”

He didn’t even try to answer, arms shaking and smile fading as his lips parted. You kissed his nose, relishing the unbridled _need_ that painted his flushed face. Relaxing yourself because you knew this was going to take a bit of patience, you prepared to ease him in.

A loud, crashing knock at the door jolted you, and you froze. Ravus pulled your hips down slightly, and you felt him prod your entrance. Then—

“Dude! Please open up!” Prompto’s voice came through the closed door with another knock. “I-I need to talk!”

Ravus snarled, his head falling back. He let go of your hips when you left his lap and climbed off the bed to hunt for something to put on.

“One second!” You picked up the shirt you’d considered sleeping in earlier and slipped it on. While you looked for bottoms, you sent glances to Ravus. He remained in place, flushed pink across his body, hair a damp mess brushed back carelessly, and frustratingly aroused. “We can pick up again when I get back.”

He looked at you, then, watching you bend to tug your pants on. “Perhaps.”

That didn’t sound promising, but another knock at the door had you throwing that thought to the wayside. Disheveled and irritated, you opened the door to your shared room just enough to slip out. Immediately, you were wrapped in a hug, and all of your sexual buildup drained from you with the sound of a muffled cry into your shoulder.

Prompto, despite being the kind of man who wore his heart on his non-existent sleeve, wasn’t taken to this kind of thing often or easily. You returned the hug, your earlier annoyance fading into concern.

“Not go well?” you asked unhelpfully. It obviously hadn’t if he was upset.

You spent that night in his room, listening to him explain what had happened with his brother. Their mother had been exactly what Besithia had said. She’d died in childbirth and had no family to speak of.

“How can I have hundreds of half siblings in the world but no family?” He ripped open a bag of chips, the likes of which you’d never seen, a brand only known in Niflheim that Prompto crunched on without a second thought. This was his fourth bag of the night so far, and you were anticipating an argument for when you try to talk him out of a fifth. Back when you’d smoked, you would’ve talked him into joining you to help him deal with his anxieties. Now you could only watch him binge and hear him out.

“What am I, then?” You rose a brow. “I consider _you_ family. And I bet Noct does, too.”

Prompto rolled his eyes. “And Gladio and Iggy. Yeah, I _get_ it.”

You grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and threw it at him. The bag of chips were knocked from his hands, spilling all over the floor at the foot of his chair. For some reason, you thought that was funny, and when he pouted, that only made you laugh harder.

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth bags, he confessed that he’d joined the Crownsguard. Years separated from the person who’d agonized over the prospect of Prompto “ditching” you to spend all of his time with Noctis and the others, you let him shift the conversation into excited descriptions of what his training and placement tests had been like.

He showed you pictures of the patched up vest the royal tailor made specifically for him. It explained why he could now do the neat weapon summoning trick that the others could. You tried to get him to do it just so you could see, but he said Noctis would know, somehow, that he’d been summoning the gun multiple times, and didn’t want to abuse his newfound abilities.

Having left Ravus in the state you had was a little thought that lingered in the back of your mind. You didn’t return to his room for the rest of the night. Prompto needed you more, and you’d realized after your best friend had interrupted your near encounter, that you weren’t sure if _you_ were ready to go that far with Ravus yet.

This was the longest you’d ever been with someone without the complications of sex muddling up all your thoughts and feelings. It had been… over two years since you’d slept with someone. Not counting Ravus’ fingers inside you or that short-lived period of entertaining Throbert with your mouth.

Reflecting on this as Prompto began to snore next to you on the bed, you realized the last time you’d slept with anyone had been with Ignis in Fenestala Manor. That felt like eons ago now. Tucking yourself close to Prompto, enjoying his presence for what short a time this trip allowed, you fell into a comfortable rest with the lingering hope on your mind that Ignis was doing okay.

—

There were more people trying to leave Gralea than there had been entering. Aranea, enigmatic as ever, wasn’t joining the rest of you on the trip back. So, without her help, you had to endure the waiting and procedures of the station staff on your way out. People were turned away in groups, most never making it through the gate just beyond the initial waiting room where you sat with Prompto.

Ravus’ status as an Oracle meant next to nothing. If anything, it made the eyes that watched you even warier, though you didn’t think his identity common knowledge since he was in plain clothes. He stood near you and Prompto, appearing restless, eyes scanning the entirety of the room in long sweeps every few minutes.

You shrugged off his civilian jacket, which he’d draped over your shoulders before leaving the hotel that morning. It made you feel like you were wrapped up in him, so you didn’t feel comfortable taking it with you to the restroom. Murmuring your intent to Prompto, you crossed the room and walked through an archway to a stalled bathroom. Using it was uncomfortable because you felt like the world could hear you. No door to close or separate you from everyone else except for the small panel you faced at the head of the stall you chose.

Hoping to be on the train soon, you rushed through washing your hands and ran directly into someone on your way to the exit. Startled to see a vaguely familiar man, you backed away and made an attempt to pass. He stood in your way, making a game of blocking you, his border agent uniform doing nothing to reassure you.

“Show me identification,” he said, and, upon closer look, you realized it was the same man who’d tried to stop you from entering when you’d first arrived to Gralea.

“It’s outside,” you said, not even trying to pretend you weren’t Lucian at this point. To emphasize your meaning, you motioned past him to the archway that led to the waiting area. His following you into the bathroom didn’t make sense to you. If he was going to hassle you anyway, he could’ve waited until it was your turn to approach the security checkpoint.

He shook his head, taking a step toward you. Behind him, a woman came through the archway, stopping when she saw you. Then, before you could say anything, she turned around and disappeared back from where she’d come. You hoped she’d left to get someone to help you, but, by the look on her face, she just hadn’t wanted to get involved.

The border agent made a grab for you, but training had you swiftly evading, back nearly hitting the edge of a sink as you went around him and took off through the archway and into the waiting area. Prompto’s bored expression calmed you slightly. Ravus’ sharp eyes worked better, following you as you crossed through the rows upon rows of chairs to sit next to Prompto. Looking back at the restroom entrance, you saw the border agent walk out as if he hadn’t just been creeping on you.

Everyone in this country was insane, you decided.

Nothing of note happened for the remainder of your wait. Not until you were being ferried through the painstakingly slow security line. First, they made a mess of your bag, throwing your personal things around one of the waist-high tables. Prompto and Ravus were both ahead of you, already passing through the large body scanner that probably gave the Nifs a wonderful view of each and every crevice of a person’s body, let alone whatever unauthorized substances it was actually meant to be used for.

You couldn’t say you were surprised when the very same border agent stopped you before you could even get to the scanner yourself. He seemed to have it out for you, and you had no idea why. The assumption you were coming to, which drove your strong need to leave as quickly as you could, was that he didn’t need a reason; he was just looking for _anything_ that would justify your detainment. Maybe it was paranoia, but the urgency of Ravus’ that you had doubted before had become your own after your time there.

The border agent patted you down, taking care to be rough about it so you could feel as uncomfortable as possible. He spread your legs with his foot, hands passing over your inner thighs more than once. He said something to another agent when he had his hands on your chest, and you felt a burning shame when it became all too clear what was happening.

The body scanner suddenly shrieked, and you looked past the agent to see Ravus seething on his way toward you. He yelled something in Niflheimish, his teeth bared in a way that had you stepping back. The agent turned to face him, effectively standing in between you. He began to argue with Ravus, though you were only guessing that was the nature of the conversation.

As the alarm from the scanner continued to go off, you looked around, realizing that more border agents had come to your particular security line, most of whom had guns aimed at Ravus. Knowing nothing about firearms outside of the ones you’d used yourself, you were intimidated by the large rifles and the tiny red dots that flicked over Ravus’ angry face.

“Let it go, Ravus!” you called over the cacophony of yells and the alarm that blared incessantly. “Please, just go back!”

You didn’t think your fuss had anything to do with Ravus backing off from the agent. You didn’t think he could even hear you. But he did turn back after one sweeping look at all of the guns aimed at him and a searching glance in your direction. Going through the body scanner correctly seemed to reset whatever minor malfunction he’d caused by backtracking through it. The air finally settled into the softer din of chatter.

The agent prompted you to walk through next, apparently done fondling you for fear of Ravus. You passed through it without issue, and followed Ravus and Prompto through another doorway —gods, let this be the last checkpoint— to a much smaller room with a single table in it. Your bags waited atop the table, still open and disheveled.

The agent and two others, both with drawn handguns, followed after you. While the other two took place in different corners of the room, guns out but not aimed, the agent went to the table. As the three of you waited, you were made to watch the agent rifle through all of your things a second time, this instance with a security cudgel. The process was akin to him stirring the contents about like very chunky soup in the bowls of your luggage.

He, then, made a show of shoving everything haphazardly into the bags and zipping them closed. Ravus was the first to take his, eyes narrowed on the agent. Prompto went for his at the same time you did, and, of course, the agent chose to hassle you one last time.

The nightstick in his hand came down on your knuckles, the slowest tap that startled more than hurt. He leaned forward and spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable. “Identification. Show me.”

Rolling your eyes, you began to pat at your coat for your passport. For Astral’s sake, this mother fucker was _never_ going to get off your case about—

Hands touching the fine leather of Ravus’ jacket, you realized with sudden and stark clarity that you’d left your passport behind with your coat in the hostel that first night. The agent tapped the end of the cudgel on the tabletop impatiently. Each rap against the metal felt like ticking on a timer that was connected to your anxiety, counting down the seconds until you imploded.

“Be done with it,” Ravus said, his voice low next to you. “So that we may rid ourselves of this place.”

Shooting him a wide-eyed look, you opened your mouth slightly and shook your head. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t admit that you’d lost it here because there was no embassy to be found in Niflheim, which meant there was no way of getting a new passport unless you left _right now,_ before they realized.

Ravus stared at you, but Prompto seemed to catch on sooner, a soft swear coming out of him from the other side of Ravus. The blond was more fidgety than usual, his hands tapping at his thighs and feet shifting in a constant pattern.

When you faced the agent again, you made another reach for your bag. He rose the stick to bring it down on your hand again, but it was stopped, caught mid-swing by Ravus who snarled at the man. Acting quickly, you grabbed the handle of your bag and jerked it off the table. The weight of it almost made you stumble, and as you gained steady footing, you noticed the two others were slowly closing in on you, aiming for Ravus once again.

He gripped the cudgel tightly, saying something in Niflheimish that made the agent turn so red, he was almost purple with what seemed to be rage.

“Let’s go,” you said in a whispered rush, pressing hands into Ravus’ side and trying to put yourself between him and the guns that were focused on him. You couldn’t let him get hurt just because some asshole had felt you up and now seemed determined to distress you as much as possible before you escaped this gods-forsaken city and empire.

The agent lunged, like he had in the restroom, ripping the stick from Ravus’ hold and taking a firm grip of your arm. You struggled, surprised by the move. He attempted to pull you across the table toward him, the edge of it digging painfully into your side.

“No identification,” he spat. Literally, you felt it spray on your face. “You cannot leave.”

“Fuck this!” In a burst of magic, Prompto stepped forward and aimed his gun at the agent. Without hesitation, he fired, and you were released, falling limp against the cold metal of the tabletop.

Too many things happened at once. All of a sudden, a barrage of sound exploded all around you, louder and more intense than the alarm had been in the last room. It caused a ringing, high pitched and biting, to begin in your ears. With tunnel vision for the exit, you made a run for it and hoped to the gods that the other two were doing the same.

It wasn’t until you were scrambling up the steps into a train car that had already begun to move that you realized you were alone. The car was fairly empty save for a couple sitting in one of the far corners. Tossing your bag down, you leaned out of the doorway just in time to almost knock into Ravus. He came up the steps in a hurry, half carrying Prompto and both of their bags. The splatter of blood on the shoulder of Prompto’s coat made you startle.

“Move,” Ravus commanded, urging you out of the way so he could get further in. He appeared over-encumbered, but kept his face severe and back straight, hauling Prompto to the nearest seat once you stepped back.

You looked at the train doors as they shuddered to a close, the train picking up speed and leaving the enclosed station. The loud sound of Ravus unloading the bags from his shoulders brought your attention back to him. He unzipped Prompto’s coat, opening it roughly, and Prompto groaned into a wince, leaning back into the seat. Your eyes shifted from the scene to the doorway of the car.

“Ravus?”

He didn’t answer at first, forcing Prompto to sit up so he could remove the coat and rip the part of his shirt that was bloodied by the wound. While you stared in shock at the gaping hole that, though small, poured blood in an oozing stream down Prompto’s shoulder and chest, Ravus sent you a brief glance.

“They won’t follow or halt the train.” He tore away the remainder of Prompto’s shirt and made the younger man lean into him so he could look over his freckled shoulder. Prompto clutched at the front of Ravus’ sweater, his face a perfect picture of agony. Ravus seemed unbothered, muttering, “It went clean through.”

You watched him begin to heal the injury, the train moving ever quicker through the city, toward the edge of the crater. The city flew by, nothing yet stopping the train in its tracks to get you. Easing finally, you slumped into one of the seats that faced theirs. “Why won’t they stop us?”

Another beat of silence. Then Ravus gave you a simple answer. “I killed them.”

The words hang in the air, accompanied by the _rattle-groan_ of the train as it shifted along the tracks and Prompto’s grunting hisses. You tried and failed to imagine what had happened while you’d been running away. Unable to process it, you laughed. “Not— not really, right?”

The magic that emanated from his hands covered Prompto’s shoulder in a light blue, illuminating Ravus’ sharp cheekbones and furrowed brow. “Argentum drew first blood. They would’ve killed us if I hadn’t.”

Prompto dropped back, his chest heaving and his hands letting go of Ravus’ sweater. “I’m sorry. I-I know you said to lay low, but—”

“Quiet,” Ravus snapped. “You did well.”

Covering your face with your hands, you shrank into yourself. They had… killed those guys? You’d seen Prompto shoot the first agent yourself. That was undeniable. The rest was far too big a pill to swallow without a fair amount of thought.

It took over an hour for Ravus to heal Prompto. By then, your best friend had fallen asleep. Ravus’ tired eyes met yours, and it became a staring contest for a time, the couple having left to be in another car at some point. You got up, covering Prompto’s bare torso with his coat when you noticed a small shiver run over him.

Ravus broke the silence. “If it disturbs you, I understand.”

You inhaled deeply, stretching your arms. “Isn’t this how wars are started?”

“Amusing that you’d be concerned about war,” he said, not sounding amused at all. “Strife, particularly at their borders, is common enough for this to be overlooked.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Right. He’d said something about that in the beginning. He didn’t seem all that shocked by this happening, which made you think this wasn’t the first time he’d ended a life. You wanted to ask him how he did it. Even more, you wanted to ask him why.

What came out instead was, “Aren’t Oracles supposed to prolong lives, not end them?”

Ravus looked down at his hands, Prompto’s blood dried on his palms. He closed them into fists and stood. His eyes were surprisingly soft on yours for several measured beats, then his jaw tightened, and he left the car, disappearing through a doorway that led to another section of the train.

You took the seat he’d left next to Prompto, leaning on his shoulder as you sank into yourself.

—

“It was… impressive, mostly,” Prompto said with a wince and a hand going up to touch the mended wound gently. “He took them out so fast, I barely saw what happened.”

The dining car was rather full, and you’d taken a spot next to him along the bar. You were both lingering, lunch long past and finished, because Ravus had returned to the car, and you didn’t want to be around him for the moment.

“Don’t mess with it,” you said, stopping him from touching the wounded spot.

He eased off, dropping his hand to the bar. “It was my fault. That guy was disgusting. I dunno what he said most of the time, but it was really making Ravus bug out. And seeing him jerk you around…”

“Did you kill him or was it Ravus?”

Prompto shrugged, then winced again. “I dunno. Does it matter? A lot happened, like crazy fast, and the next thing I know I’m on the train with an Oracle saving my life.”

Staring at him, you resisted the urge to give him a shove. Because he was grinning now. It was a good sight, sure, since he had been bleeding out only hours before, but you so weren’t in the mood for what you knew was about to come out of his mouth.

“He’s kinda hot when he’s protective like that,” Prompto said, confirming your suspicion. He laughed when you groaned, nudging you with an elbow. “Dude, he saved us. Those guys weren’t gonna let you leave.”

“But killing them?” You lowered your voice, but it was pointless. The man behind the bar had probably been listening the entire time, idly drying cups nearby.

Prompto’s grin faded, and he scratched at the back of his neck. “It kinda comes with the territory. You think Gladio and Iggy haven’t killed before?”

It was like running into a wall, the words hitting you so hard, you could only stare at him. He blew out a breath between puffed cheeks, eyes wide like he wasn’t sure how to approach this subject. But he continued on.

“Uh, when I joined the Crownsguard training, the number one rule they stressed was protecting Noctis no matter what. Ignis and Gladio have been in for _years,_ so like, it made sense when they told me stories.”

As much as you wanted to hear this, you were having difficulties with the fact that all of your closest friends had killed people. You kept shaking your head as he went on.

“I think they were trying to scare me. Can’t let me join the Crownsguard just to get paid to hang out with Noct, right?” He laughed. “Gladio didn’t surprise me. It’s his whole job to keep Noctis alive. But Iggy—” Prompto scratched his head. “He’s tortured before.”

Ignis? The romantic, dorky, horrible dirty-talking, and unfortunately married Ignis had tortured and killed people? You suddenly had a very different view of him, of all of them. Something that Ravus had said during almost every training session was how important it was to know how to strike a killing blow. He’d said you’d _need_ to know.

At the time, you’d thought little of it because you were either trying to just hit him for once or counting down the minutes until you were in the privacy of his bedchambers. If being able to kill _came with the territory,_ you were going to need an adjustment period. Dueling people to the death, defending from assassins, those seemed so much less hypothetical now.

“Don’t be mad at Ravus just because he did what any noble would do.” Prompto disrupted your thoughts, nudging you with an elbow again. “Besides, he saved _me._ Doesn’t that win him some points?”

After a long look, you smiled. It didn’t reach your eyes, but it was genuine. “That’s fair. I think I just need time to get over the fact that everyone I know is a killer.”

Prompto hopped down from the barstool, and you followed. Your smile must’ve made him think it was safe to go back to the car where Ravus and your bags sat.

“Hey, haven’t you been training, too?” Prompto laughed over his shoulder as you crossed through cars, walking through one that was a hallway with closed, private cabs. “You could’ve whipped out your skills. Maybe _we_ should be upset that you left us to fight alone. This could be the beginning of my love story with Ravus, dude. Ya snooze, ya loose.”

You did push him this time, on the shoulder that hadn’t been torn through with a bullet. “Tell that to Ravus, I fucking dare you.”

The prince was resting when you made it back to the car. He was reclined in the seat as much as it would allow, his arms crossed and his face beautifully at ease. The steady shift of his chest underneath his crossed arms suggested it was a deep sleep. You knew that healing took a lot out of him and found yourself brushing back a lock of silver hair that had fallen over his face.

Prompto threw himself, gently because of his poor, poor shoulder, onto a seat not far away and consumed himself with a game on his phone. You sent him one last look before sitting across from Ravus. The next few hours were spent watching the snowy landscape pass and the subtle shifts Ravus made in his sleep.

—

Death wasn’t a topic up for discussion when Ravus roused for dinner. You both let Prompto fill the air with chatter, Ravus being surprisingly responsive when a question was directed his way. Did he regret missing the New Year’s ball this year? Not at all. Wasn’t Gralea the biggest shithole? Oh, absolutely. Wouldn’t it be cool if she, meaning _you,_ could be naturalized as Tenebraen instead of applying for a new Lucian passport?

At that, Ravus looked to you. He was in the booth alone on his side, you and Prompto facing him across the table. “She would have to live in Tenebrae for five years before she could apply.”

“Not that I’d even want to,” you spoke up. “No offence, but I like being Lucian.”

He didn’t appear at all surprised or bothered, leaning back as a server cleared the table. “As you should be. Pride in one’s home is an attractive quality.”

You snorted. “Is it?”

“Certainly,” was all he offered, resting hands on the now cleared table. “I’ll take you to the consulate when we return to Tenebrae. It shouldn’t take long for new documents to come from the Citadel.”

You wanted to tell him you could go there without him. He was your boyfriend, not your caretaker. Even if he was exceptionally good at it. He was, in all seriousness, the only person on Eos who could handle you, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t take care of yourself when it was warranted.

Rather than spill out these thoughts, you said, “I’m sadder that I left my carbuncle.”

As silly as it was, you really were more upset over that than losing your passport and license. They could be replaced, but the carbuncle had meant so much to you.

Ravus reached across the table, his hand enclosing yours. He didn’t offer a word of comfort, which you appreciated. Prompto cleared his throat, sliding out of the booth and stretching with a look away.

“I’m gonna head back. Expecting Gladio to check in soon,” he said, as if he needed to make an excuse to leave you alone.

Ravus was quiet, and now that the buffer of Prompto was gone, you both sat in a silence that wasn’t as comfortable as you were used to with this person. You looked at him as he looked at his hand over yours. When the silence was broken, it was him to speak first.

“I hope you understand that there was no other option,” he said. “What they were planning to do to you—” He cut himself off, his jaw clenching and his eyes shifting up to meet yours.

You turned your hand over, your palm touching his. “I know.”

There was still a mixed mass of feelings you didn’t understand within yourself. The control you had struggled with for years and had only recently gained over yourself felt weakened. You wanted to extend it, to exercise some of it on Ravus to make yourself feel right again. If that was even possible. The wool had very much been pulled over your eyes, however unintentionally, by so many close to you.

At the same time, a part of you enjoyed the natural command that Ravus held. He protected without hesitation or remorse, and you kind of liked how much that had shaken your control. It was a fact that two people couldn’t be dominant in a relationship without conflict. Ignis had switched with you, an even match to your own that had been perfect for how short a time you’d been together.

But Ravus was a different animal entirely.

He gripped your hand, his thumb tracing a pattern over the back of it with slight motions. Inner turmoil twisted in you, a want to let him know that you were grateful for his unforgiving nature that conflicted with a strong desire to make sure he understood that only _you_ controlled your life.

Your free hand came to your forehead, and you closed your eyes tightly. None of this made sense. You’d never experienced any of these feelings, and had no way of processing them. It felt so odd to know what you were feeling but not what you were meant to do about it.

“I apologize about the loss of your carbuncle.” He spoke low, the tracing of his thumb tingling against your skin. “It may entertain you to know that I’d wished for it to be the first thing I blessed.”

You rolled a small shrug over your shoulders, using his misunderstanding of your frustration to push your tumultuous thoughts aside. Dropping your hand, you opened your eyes and smiled at him. “That’s pretty dorky, papa-gâteau.”

He didn’t smile back, but his hand tightened on yours. His expression was a soft sort of serious, and you had to agree with Prompto’s earlier assessment. Ravus was kind of hot when he was protective.

— 

Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to get your mind off the thoughts you’d been struggling with over what you’d learned, not only about everyone you held close, but about yourself. In all of your hurry to be with Ravus, you were only now realizing that you didn’t know what you were looking for by being with him.

You’d come at him hard and fast with your interest in sex from the moment you’d both admitted you felt the same about each other. You’d gotten past his barriers —to the point of _nearly_ sleeping with him— with little thought about what barriers you probably should’ve kept up for yourself.

If your last encounter was anything to go by, Ravus was ready to seal the deal, so to speak. You fully anticipated him drawing back, and if that was his choice, so be it. But you were _done_ pressuring him. You would do what you felt was right in any given moment and hope he was on your wavelength, but nothing more.

He’d always been respectful in seeking your consent, so you were going to take on the same principle. His limits were your limits.

It hadn’t scared you how close you’d come to having him inside you. In fact, you couldn’t wait until you felt that high again. You merely had a feeling that, given what you were _still_ learning about each other, waiting until you were both fully on the same page would make the most of it.

Besides, Ravus didn’t deserve to have his virginity taken in fucking Gralea, of all places.

An hour from Tenebrae, you led him to the train car of private rooms near the dining car. Rather than doors that automatically locked, the cabs remained unlocked and accessible to all. It was privacy you had to pay for, provided by a key given by a staff member. Which was something you didn’t have, unfortunately.

That wasn’t going to stop you.

Ravus, raising a curious brow as you slid the door closed, stood in the middle of the small room and crossed his arms. “Why do I feel as though you have ill intent?”

You pressed your lips together firmly, fighting a giggle. Since dinner, you’d struggled with all of those inner thoughts, and you’d come to one solid decision on how you were going to exercise your control while relinquishing a bit of it to him at the same time. Because that was something you _did_ want out of this relationship with him. A duality that you hoped he understood.

Resting back against the door, you raked your eyes over his form. It was dark outside the window behind him, and the dim light from above cast him in a warm yellow. He was in the same type of sweater he’d worn on the train ride to Gralea, thin and unfair in how much it showed off.

“Do you not trust me?” you asked. _His limits were your limits._ You repeated it like a mantra in your mind. Your eyes trailed up his arms, over his shoulders, and met his in the warm light.

“Ma crevette,” he said, dropping his arms. “You’re propositioning me, are you not?”

Pushing off from the door, you stepped toward him. “In a way. Only if you’re okay with it.”

His mouth was a straight line, and you began to expect a rejection. But, as you stopped in front of him, he lifted a hand to touch a curl in your hair. He leaned down, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “What are you suggesting?”

A thrill coursed through you, partly from his forward manner. Tilting your head up, you whispered, “Let me taste you?”

His eyes flicked between yours, no answer forthcoming.

You rose a hand, pressing it to his chest. “Tell me now because I wanna kiss you.”

Lips parting, he maintained the stare for a moment longer. “I did promise you that.”

“Yes, you—”

He cut you off with the press of his mouth, heated and abrupt. You loved when he would preface a kiss with a soft _May I?_ and you equally loved when he did this, the insistent moments where he acknowledged your consent in other ways, wasting no time.

The kiss was a rough back and forth of his mouth on your own, prying your lips apart. He delved a hand into your hair, cradling your head as he deepened the contact. Bringing your other hand to his chest, you pushed him back. Slowly, you moved to a cushioned seat just below the window. Ravus broke the kiss and sat down.

He looked up at you, hand still in your hair. You took it in both of your own, drawing it to your mouth so you could kiss his palm. Letting it go, you touched his shoulders, sliding your hands down his muscular arms and lowering yourself to your knees. The floor was cold though your jeans, but it barely registered with how warm Ravus was under your touch.

He gazed down at you, looking far too thoughtful for a man with someone between his legs, ready to suck the life out of him. Not that that was your plan or anything.

Your hands resting on his knees, you moved slowly to be sure he was comfortable. He watched you slide them up his thighs, fingers making easy work of unbuckling his belt. He was hard, not fully but enough that it bulged underneath the fabric of his boxer briefs. You leaned forward, nuzzling it as a heavy breath fell from your parted lips.

Then you looked up at him, your nose brushing the length of him as you gave him a smile. His jaw flexed, eyes trained on your every movement, and you reveled in the attention. Fingers curling underneath his waistband, you tugged it down and released him from the final confines he strained against.

Resting at an angle, his cock twitched slightly when you took it in a hand. This close, you were surrounded by the scent of him, musky and clean, the simple smell of bare skin. It was the softest pink, thin veins underlying the pale skin. Ignoring the warmth that began to burn between your thighs at the sight of him, you licked the length of his shaft from base to tip. As your tongue flicked the sensitive spot just below the head, you looked up and met his eyes.

He was panting heavily already, the hands at his sides curled into fists. His gaze burned deliciously, an audience of one that made you take special care of every action.

You circled the head of his cock with the tip of your tongue, your hand shifting over him in steady movements. He grew harder by the second, jerking in reaction to the slick touch of your tongue. Your second hand came to help the first, both pumping smoothly over him. You sucked the head into your mouth, tongue swirling and prodding at the tip. Sticky precum made the action taste sweet.

Ravus gave a low moan, hand tangling in your hair. He didn’t press, just gripped your hair and shifted along with the movement of your head.

It was a gradual thing, taking him into your mouth. Never had you been with someone so endowed. Ironic, really, that of all whom you’d been with, the least experienced would fascinate you the most. Your mouth left him to swirl shapes with your tongue along the sides, wetting the skin for your hands to glide over easier. Then, you wet your plush lips and brought him between them again.

He pulsed in your mouth, his cock hot on your tongue as you took him in by inches. Building a steady rhythm, your eyes began to water. The head hit the back of your throat, and you pushed through, your jaw growing sore from lack of practice. Working him with your hands, you let drool slide down him from your mouth. He had both hands in your hair now, and when your watery eyes met his own, he was flush with desire and arched forward slightly, his breath labored.

You tilted your head back in a slow arch, sucking him as you drew him out of your mouth. When you delved back in, teasing him with your tongue and enveloping him within the warmth of your mouth, he grunted, his hands tightening in your hair. Lifting away again, you let him fall from your mouth and sent him a wet smile.

“Having fun, Ravus?”

He stared down at you with lidded eyes. You felt powerful in how he fell apart at your touch. That shifted into a raw want when he answered.

“Don’t stop.”

You clenched, holding your thighs tightly together with the promise to yourself that you’d take care of it later, maybe while Ravus watched, if he was into it. You returned to the rhythm from before, the slick, sloppy motions of your mouth around his cock making your core ache. Your lust only grew, Ravus shaking underneath you, his hands now guiding you in a pace that he wanted.

Testing out the lightest graze of your teeth, you felt him shudder. A deep moan came from him, and he forced his cock deeper into your mouth. Your hands left him, bracing at his thighs as he moved inside your mouth. Desire coiled and burned deeper in your heat, this sort of command over you a new experience. His grip on your hair stung your scalp, his cock plunging into your mouth with strong, steady jerks of your head. You moaned around him, and that seemed to be all he could take.

Ravus stilled, his cock pulsating in your mouth. His cum was thick and a little sweet, filling your mouth faster than you could swallow. It spilled between your lips and dripped down his cock. You bobbed your head one last time, earning a shuddered moan out of him. His hands left your hair, falling away to cup your face while you took him in hand again.

You licked the cum at the corners of your mouth and looked up at him. His eyes were dark with the most relaxed look you’d ever seen on his face. He leaned down, kissing you softly.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, his voice heavy and deep. He kissed you again, his tongue meeting yours in an uncaring curiosity of knowing how he tasted on you. When he broke away, you opened your eyes, but he kept his closed. “I love you,” he repeated, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You wanted to laugh because it was only a blowjob, and probably not one of your best since you were so out of practice. It had been messy and disgusting, really. Instead, you gave him a small kiss and leaned back. Your hand was still gripping him, and your body was burning with a want to keep touching if he would allow.

“Let me clean you up,” you said, ducking your head to lick the sticky remnants of cum from him. He leaned back, a contented sigh falling out of him as his hands left your face.

The loud sound of the cabin door sliding open behind you made you stop to look over your shoulder. A woman, standing frozen in the doorway, shrieked at the sight of your compromising position.

“Oh, fuck.” You let Ravus go and wiped at your mouth, facing him in time to see his eyes widen. As he covered himself, you stood and turned around to block him from the woman’s view. “Get out!”

She covered her mouth with her hand and dashed off, leaving the door open. You stomped across the small space, sliding it shut with a slam. Turning to Ravus, you prepared an apology —this _had_ been your idea— which halted on your lips when you caught him with a hand over his eyes, slightly hunched with elbows on his knees. His shoulders began to rock with a chuckle, a smile coming to his face fully formed.

“Ravus?”

He dropped the hand from his face, holding it out to you and sending his amused expression your way. “Come, ma crevette.” The laugh was even in his voice.

Your heart felt heavier in your chest, thudding thickly as you went to him. He pulled you into his lap, legs perpendicular to his.

“That was embarrassing,” you grumbled, enjoying the feel and sound of his laughter.

“Indeed.” He let out a steadying breath. “But I cannot bring myself to care, for the moment.”

You leaned into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. The woman had killed your desire, but your heart was what ached sweetly now. Ravus spent the rest of the hour holding you close and kissing you between quiet admittances that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

You didn’t know how quickly word could spread until you were a week past the events of your trip, clocking out of your cafe job for the final time. It was on someone’s table, a tabloid with a large, unflattering photo of you and Ravus getting off of the train together at the castle’s station. In bold Tenebraen above it read _Weekend Getaway: Oracle Receives Oral From Saucy Shrimp._

You pointed at it and gave the person at the table a shocked look. “ _Where did you buy that_?”

Rather than tell you, they let you have it because the article was apparently disappointing. Lucky that the cafe’s uniform masked you from being recognized as the _Saucy Shrimp._ You read it on your short walk home, finding that it _was_ a bit of a let down.

_A reliable source says they were witness to the act on the mainline last weekend. “I was transfixed,” they stated. Safe to say, our Oracle in training is human after all. What of his partner? Little is known about her aside from her place in the entertainment industry, where another source has confirmed that our indomitable Prince Ravus refers to her as his “shrimp”. For anyone too young to recognize the meaning…_

The rest went on to list how you’d been spotted at Fenestala Manor often, speculating that you’d been with Ravus for years. Nothing new there; everyone had been positive you’d been sleeping with him from the beginning. And why wouldn’t they? He’d been calling you his sweetheart all this time.

When you got to your kitchen, digging through your fridge for lunch, you sent the article another look. You wished they’d gotten a better picture. The photographer must’ve been hiding behind a railing or something. Deciding to order in, you picked up your phone and sat down at the table with a smile. Your first tabloid. Nice. Maybe you should frame it.

At the very least, you were going to cut it out and share it with Ravus on your next visit.

—

Excitement led you to practically run though the manor. You held out a hand for a guard to high five as you rushed past. They didn’t meet it, but you weren’t going to be deterred by their lack of enthusiasm. Asking around to both the castle staff and the few nobility who deigned to speak to you, as you often did when entering the castle and neither Ravus nor the knight were answering their phones, you were told he was in the gardens.

It was surprising; winter was only halfway through its creep across Zoldara Henge. You’d officially been here for a year now, the resting plants and quiet air a mark of this milestone and exactly why it was weird for him to be in the gardens. Even the fountains were untended, drained, and covered.

But that’s where you found him, standing among the frosty plants. You stopped just on the edge of the stone walkway that trailed through the entirety of the royal gardens, ending down at the fields of sylleblossoms.

Ravus was talking to himself. Or, rather, he was signing to himself. The movements of his hands were far more assured than the first time you’d seen him practice right before your stint to Niflheim. A month had since passed, enough time for him to improve greatly, it seemed.

There was a theme to what he said, and that theme was you. It was almost like the actors you’d see rehearsing their lines just before the cameras rolled. Ravus only signed in reference to you, specifically to be used when talking to Mom. It was endearing that he’d go through so much trouble just to tell Mom _I love your daughter_ and _She makes me happy._ But those were going to be useless when he needed her to pass the salt or wanted to ask her how her day was going.

You wanted to let him keep this secret, to let him surprise you. So you let it go and trusted that he knew what he was doing. You said his name to warn him you were there, then took off toward him down the stone path. You had your own surprise to share, and you didn’t have to wait for Mom’s next visit to reveal it.

Dropping his hands to his sides, Ravus faced you. His robes were finely pressed, and he didn’t have a coat on. The skin at his neck had gooseflesh, his breath coming out in little white clouds. You held back your annoyance, realizing now why he was out here. He liked the cold, but he wasn’t invincible. He was going to get sick someday, standing out here like this. You knew he did it when he was most thoughtful. He’d told you once that the chill gave him extreme clarity. That must’ve been what he sought in his sign language practice.

“I got a job,” you announced, almost bouncing in place. When he opened his mouth, probably to point out how you already had a job since the second season of the vampire drama had begun production, you held up a hand to preemptively quiet him. “A second job. I’ve been contracted to write a movie.”

Ravus knew how huge this was for you. His expression eased into a small smile, something only you were allowed to see. “That’s wonderful.”

No question of whether or not you could handle doing both jobs at once. Just a congratulations and a gentle squeeze of your hand in his. That was all he would do in public now, hand holding. After that first tabloid, it went back to square one on the public display front. In private, though, things had remained steady.

Your training coming to an end meant you had no excuse to spend most nights at the manor, in his bedchambers. When you did, on occasion, visit him, it was with the same fiery press of his fingers inside you, now with him relenting to your eager mouth. It was becoming one of your favorite things, making him come undone. You didn’t want to point out that he’d technically broken his vow. Many people didn’t consider oral stimulation equivalent to sex, and you weren’t about to lose this progress you’d made.

It was especially satisfying because he’d recently wanted to move beyond his fingers, to taste you in kind. Telling someone _no_ had never felt so good as when you were being held down on his bed, a frown on his face at being denied for once. This was a barrier you put up for your own sake. He wasn’t going to be good at it, not at first, and you weren’t ready to teach him.

Walking around the cold gardens, his hand warm over yours, you repressed all sexual thoughts and gave him the details of your new job. The contract was straight forward. You had six months to write a script, and would receive a large payout once it was reviewed and accepted. Since it was guaranteed to be produced, there would be a bonus once the movie was actually made. Then it would be residuals from there. It wouldn’t be enough money to last you a lifetime, but you were covered for the next several years, a mind blowing concept. And all you had to do was write a good story.

“I have good news as well,” he said, his eyes scanning the fields of sylleblossoms that were forever in bloom. “I’ve recently accomplished a personal goal.”

He was talking about the sign language, you thought as a grin grew on your face. He was finally sharing it with you.

“I know,” you blurted. “I saw you.”

His gaze turned to you with a sharp tilt of his head, his brows arching.

“Earlier.” You motioned your free hand back toward where you’d found him standing. “You taught yourself sign language. Guess you _are_ a cunning linguist.”

Ravus stared down at you, unaffected by your stolen wordplay. A lot seemed to flash through his eyes, but all that came out of him was a single word. “Right.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little bad about ruining his surprise. You were too excited about your professional endeavors, unable to contain yourself at everything that was happening. It all felt so _right._ Your career was finally picking up and Ravus was continually impressing you with how much he cared. Despite the occasional tabloid that came out about you now, life had never been so perfect.

—

 **_Ignis:_ ** _The trend can be found if you look through the archives. They’re available online. I’ll send you a link._

 **_You:_ ** _Dude, yes, you’re a lifesaver!_

Talking to Ignis was becoming easier as time passed. You knew what not to bring up and caught yourself before you mindlessly sent something that could be misconstrued at a flirt. Because it would probably always come naturally to you to flirt with Ignis Scientia.

He was helping you with writing the movie. It was based on a book, which you read before doing anything else. A political comedy and commentary of international relations over the last few decades, you’d found it pretty entertaining, but somewhat out of your depth. You’d remembered seeing a copy of it in Ignis’ apartment so you’d asked him about it and divulged the details of your contract. If anyone could be trusted with breaking your non-disclosure agreement, it was him. 

Your life had become days of working on set for the drama, evenings of research and writing, all the while talking with Ignis about what headway you’d made on the script. Only two months into the six that you were given, and you still had a way to go at getting it finished.

At this specific moment in time, you were in the private library with Ravus, a moment of much needed rest. Not that you were actually letting yourself rest. You were taking notes of specific lines in the book that you wanted to adapt for the script. People loved it when films were as close to the source material as possible.

Ravus let you recline on him, your head in his lap. He touched your face occasionally, the brush of his fingers over your brow or down your nose. His attention never left the book in his other hand, though, another edition of Cosmogony that seemed to be much of his studies as of late.

 **_You:_ ** _How is Prompto doing with the Crownsguard stuff?_

 **_Ignis:_ ** _He is remarkably diligent. The Marshal has taken to him._

 **_You:_ ** _Oooh, Gladio better watch out._

 **_Ignis:_ ** _I meant it more in a fatherly way, but you may be right._

 **_You:_ ** _Prompto calling someone else daddy is enough reason to worry!_

 **_Ignis:_ ** _You are incorrigible._

Ravus’ fingertips danced across your forehead. “Scientia?”

You dropped your phone on your chest, closing your eyes with a smile. “Yeah. He’s sending me info for my script and gossiping about Prompto.”

Ravus hummed, his fingers moving down your cheek. His touch was especially electric recently, a spark of magic that always left tingles along your skin. He’d never voiced his disapproval of your friendship with Ignis. You had the impression that Ravus didn’t feel threatened. That, or he was very good at hiding it.

Not being one to hide things, to your knowledge, Ravus being so chill about it only made you feel more secure in your place with him. Sure, he didn’t love it when you talked about Ignis, but he listened just as readily now as he always had.

Tossing your phone and the book aside, you rose a hand to poke his cheek. It garnered his attention like you’d hoped, and he gazed down at you curiously.

 _Wanna make out?_ you signed, wiggling your eyebrows and biting your lip. Seduction at its finest.

He blinked, staring at you like he’d discovered the lowest lifeform in existence. The look made a small laugh burst out of you. He could frown forever, but you knew he loved it. He placed his book aside, and you let him consume the remainder of your downtime with languid touches and soft laughter.

—

You placed the tray carefully on the foot of the bed and looked at the contents atop the shiny, silver flatware. This was going to be… unsanitary. But hopefully sexy and fun at the same time.

You’d confiscated some confections along the lines of chocolate, whipped cream, and various syrups in fancy little pourers from the royal kitchens. When the head chef had asked just what you were doing with all of it, you’d rushed out telling him not to worry his curly little mustache over it.

The entire process of preparing this was delicate and needed to be done quickly. Ravus was going to be in his rooms anytime now, and you wanted to be ready. Slipping out of your clothes, you tossed them into a pile on the floor and carefully crawled onto his bed. The surface of the blankets was a little cold, and you shivered, forever cursing the permanent chill of the manor.

How did this work, exactly? You eyed the different foods, wondering if you were supposed to “put on” something first. No. If you put chocolate over your tits, you could just imagine Ravus’ confusion upon arrival. Besides, you didn’t know exactly _when_ he was going to be in and didn’t want to sit around waiting with whipped cream all over you.

So you stretched along the bed and tried to determine which sexy pose would be best. You tried one position, then another, all of them feeling awkward. In the end, it didn’t matter. Ravus entered his room while you were deliberating, stopping just beyond his doorway to stare at your naked form laying across his bed.

Already on your side, you propped your elbow on the bed, head in hand. “Hey, papa-gâteau.”

He stared, closing the door behind himself before stepping forward. His sharp eyes flitted between parts of you and the sweets that lay in front of you on the bed. “What is this?”

It was asked with a curious tone, his interest obviously piqued. You felt both excitement and relief at that, confident that you’d made a good move. This had been your creative way of saying you were ready to let down your short-lived barrier. It was also a minor celebration for finishing the script in only four months. With that weight off your shoulders, you felt unstoppable and wanted to share the feeling with him.

“Dessert,” you said, rubbing a hand down your side in attempt to be sexy. It seemed to work; Ravus stepped toward the bed, hands already working at the clasps of his robes. You sat up to watch him undress, a little miffed when he stopped after removing his undershirt, keeping his pants on.

Your hands went to his broad chest when he joined you on the bed. He kissed you, then looked at the tray of sweet things next to you with uncertainty. You had no idea what you were doing here, and that seemed fair. It evened the playing field so you could both learn.

Laying back, you nudged the tray with a toe. It was cold against your skin, and you felt increasingly silly about this as Ravus continued to look thoughtful about this. You didn’t _need_ the sweet things to get him to eat you out. It was only to help ease him into it, to make the first time memorable. 

He lifted one of the cruets and leaned over you, dripping chocolate syrup over your breasts. You bit back a giggle at the fascination on his face. Putting the syrup down, he bent and slowly licked it from you, his tongue slick and hot against your skin. Your amusement died, giving rise to a growing warmth in your chest and a yearning at your apex. He left a sticky wet trail down your body from your collar to your hips as he tried the different things you’d brought and licked it off your skin, one relished flick of his tongue at a time.

You remained still, keeping in mind the rule of not touching him without permission. Your body shivered at his care, this slow sensuality not something you were very familiar with. He sucked whipped cream from your inner thighs, grazing your skin with his teeth before drawing back to look at you.

Wanting to brush his hair out of his face, you lifted your hand. “Can I touch you?”

You could feel his breath hit you, cool against how wet you were. “Please.”

You arched forward slightly, brushing his hair behind an ear. You touched his jaw, smoothing your thumb over the corner of his mouth where a smidge of whipped cream had caught. You brought your thumb to your mouth, licking it off before relaxing back again. Your eyes remained on his for another beat, an implied offer to guide him if he wanted it.

He ran fingers over your lips, first around them, then parting them gently. His eyes left yours to give it his full attention, and you looked up at the swirling of stars painted with gold leaf on his ceiling. The familiar circling of his finger at your entrance made you let out a soft moan. Then, your breath hitched at the feeling of something much smoother teasing you there.

Peeking down, you watched Ravus lap at you without reservation, his eyes closed and his nose nuzzling your clit in his exploration. Large hands came to your thighs, arms wrapping around your legs and holding you in place. He sucked at the soft flesh of your lips, then delved his tongue deeper. You arched with a louder moan, your hands finding his hair in a hard grip.

He dove into you with long, generous motions of his tongue, licking simple shapes and making your legs shake. This felt practiced, overthought in how well he was doing. Trailing the tip of his tongue upward, he circled the overly sensitive nub. When he sucked there, you pulled at his hair and released a breathy cry. Your legs shook harder, but he held you still with his arms at your thighs and his head buried between your legs.

Time seemed to melt away, nothing existing but the sweet, searing attention of his tongue playing in your wet heat and the sparkling gold of the stars on the ceiling above. When you climaxed, it wracked your body, and he held you there, your legs jerking and tightening around him. Your breaths were labored, rushing out of you in intense heaves of your chest.

When his arms loosened, you let go of his hair and urged him up, gripping loosely at his shoulders and murmuring, “C’mere.”

You felt the solid hardness of his cock in his pants against your leg as he climbed up, leaning over you. He brushed hair off your forehead, kissing you there, then your mouth. You didn’t love the way you tasted, but you were thankful he didn’t try to put one of the foodstuffs in you.

Even though you felt replete, satisfied by everything he’d done, you wrapped your legs around his hips, rubbing yourself against the bulge in his pants. He stilled above you, which made you drop your legs. His limits, you reminded yourself.

Leaning on an elbow, he broke the kiss to look at you. Blue and violet, you looked from one eye to the other. His silvery hair framed his face, falling over you gently. Slowly, he lowered his hips, rubbing his erection against you. You sucked in a hard breath, surprised by the move. He did it once more, grunting impatiently before sitting up, his fingers going to the tie at his pants.

Eyes widening, your breath picked up all over again. This— this was happening. Ravus ripped at the strings, pulling his pants down and revealing himself fully. You bit your lip, appreciating the sight of him between your legs.

From the bedside table, your phone began to ring. You ignored it at first, watching Ravus kick off his pants and slide a hand over himself as he gazed down at you. Then, his eyes went to your phone, and he paused above you.

“What?” You looked from him to your phone, picking it up. One of the producers who’d paid you to write the movie was calling. You groaned and sent Ravus a regretful look. He was already dropping back, a scowl on his face. Getting up from the bed, you answered the phone with a forced happiness, going to the washroom so you wouldn’t have to make Ravus suffer through the inane business talk.

When you came out fifteen minutes later, both he and the tray of sweets were gone. You slumped into his bed and let out a sigh. You were beginning to think it was _never_ going to happen.

—

Ravus never set up the voicemail on his mobile. It was usually something that made you roll your eyes, but now it pissed you off. You called him for a fifth time while you boarded the train with a quickly packed carry on tossed over your shoulder. When it rang indefinitely, you scowled at the candid shot of him that served as his contact picture. Next, you called the knight. She answered on the third ring, sounding out of breath.

“Are you with Ravus?” you asked, taking a seat in a crowded car with your bag in your lap.

“He is in a very important meeting, and I am training. Meetings are not in training rooms.” She huffed on the line.

“Can you give him a message? I would text him, but it’s too important,” you said, raising your voice a little to be heard over the din of the train car. It only grew louder when it began to move. “And I don’t have time to stop by on my way out.”

“Oui, one moment.”

You heard shuffling, sending a look around the cabin of the car as you waited.

“Okay, give me the message.”

“Right, tell Ravus I’m leaving the country.”

She gasped. “You are?!”

“Yes, are you writing this down?”

“Why are you leaving?”

You threw your head back against the headrest. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Just write it down, okay?”

“Oui, go on,” she said, and you hoped she actually let you.

“I have to go home to be with my mom. She’s very sick. It’s—”

“You want me to say _that_?”

Astrals above, this was beyond frustrating. “Yes, sick! Bad sick! She had a small stroke from overworking. They said it might be cerebral apoplexy, whatever the fuck that is. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Two weeks— maybe a month, I dunno. Just tell Ravus as soon as you see him.”

The knight was silent on the other end, to the point that you thought she might’ve hung up. Then, she said, “I am so sorry.”

Your irritation abated somewhat. “It’s not your fault.”

“Lord Ravus will be so very upset.” Her voice was so quiet now, it was hard to hear over the noise around you. “But I will tell him. It is my duty.”

You didn’t understand the solemnity of this, but this show of empathy wasn’t uncommon among Tenebraens, you’d come to learn in your time living there. Like Aranea had once said, they really did have hearts that bled for all.

Thanking her, you hung up and tried to relax as you settled into your seat and tried to not have a stroke of your own with the amount of worry that wracked you.

—

Mom was lucid and seemed normal when you arrived at her house. The doctor who had called you told you that someone had taken her home. One of the men that she employed to help her around the farm. He was there when you arrived, showing you what medicines she needed and the recommended treatment practices before leaving.

She couldn’t sign very well, and you urged her not to, tending to her even though you hadn’t been able to sleep at all in your day of travel to get there. It wasn’t until she was asleep that you finally let yourself lay down. You went to your old room and curled on your small bed, surprised the place hadn’t been overtaken with dust. You stared at your phone, wondering why Ravus hadn’t called yet. There was no message waiting in your inbox, no email to be found. You’d expected _something,_ maybe even for him to offer to come with you to help.

Waking up early the next morning, you began what you thought would be your new routine. Mom couldn’t leave the house yet but had enough mobility to do most things herself. To not make her feel bad, you tried not to crowd her, but kept offering to do things for her, acting more like an ideal daughter than you ever had.

Just after lunch, as you washed dishes by hand, you were startled by a growing sound from the open window above the sink. A whirring, almost vibrating sound that waved through the air. The early summer sun was bright outside, the view out the window not matching the loud modulation that only seemed to grow louder by the second.

Drying your hands, you left the kitchen, walking through the house to go outside. Peering around the fields of wheat, you saw nothing. You went down the porch steps, and a shadow moved over you, wide and ominous. With a look up, you were startled to see a drop ship. It flew far too low, close enough that you could make out the numbers and letters along the bottom of it.

Fear was your first reaction, thoughts of Niflheim finally coming after you, as absurd as they were, coursed through your mind. When it landed, in one of the fields just beyond Mom’s yard, you felt frozen. Was this happening? Just _what_ was happening?

The bay door opened, and you backed away a step, hands going to the railing as you went back up the stoop of the porch. Your fear melted into pure confusion when the first person to walk down the ramp was Ravus.

You blinked, wondering if your contact prescription needed to be updated because that couldn’t be right. But it was. Stepping out into the bright sunlight with his obnoxiously fancy robes that waved in the wind along with the wheat that surrounded him, Ravus looked around the property. When he began walking your way, guards began to spill out after him from each side, carrying bundles of blue things.

You walked down the steps again, shoes crunching over the gravel of the driveway. This still didn’t make sense, but at least it wasn’t the empire there to fuck you up for killing some of their creeps. When you were close enough to make out that the blue bundles were bunches of sylleblossoms, you realized this was probably Ravus’ overdramatic way of wanting to help heal Mom. The guards placed them on the lawn, circling back with more, effectively surrounding you by the time you met Ravus in the middle of Mom’s front yard.

Finally tearing your eyes from the flowers, you looked at him, immediately shrinking back slightly at how furious he looked. The sharpest frown cutting his face, he snarled when he spoke.

“Where is he?”

Your brows arched. “Who?”

Ravus drew his sword, which you hadn’t even noticed he’d been wearing until it was glinting in the sunlight. “Scientia.”

With a shake of your head, you rose your hands. “Why would he be here?”

“Don’t protect him, ma crevette.” Ravus looked past you at the house. “I’m owed a chance to fight for you.”

You shook your head again. “What are you _talking_ about? Ignis isn’t here!”

Ravus met your eyes again, shoving his free hand into his robes and pulling out a wrinkled slip of paper. “Then explain this message you left me.”

You stepped toward him, closing the remaining distance and taking the note.

_Ravus,_

_I have to go home to be with my man. His dick. His fat dick. I have to give it a small stroke and some jerking. Ravus, you are terrible and unsexy whenever we fuck and jizz. I’m hot for more of his dong. Not yours. Maybe just once. But no more._

The knight had been kind enough to sign your name along the bottom in her lovely script. You stared at it, disbelief rocking you to your very soul. She couldn’t have gotten your Lucian this bad. It was _impossible_ to have misunderstood you to this degree.

Then again, it had been loud in the train car… and it _was_ the knight…

Looking from the note to the flowers that surrounded you to Ravus’ angry face, you could do nothing but laugh. It tumbled out of you, soft at first until you were doubled over, bent in front of him with the paper crumpling in a fist.

“How can you laugh?”

Righting yourself, you lifted the paper. “You think I would say this? You really think I’d just leave because I missed someone’s…” You smoothed out the paper. “Fat dick?”

The hard, angry lines of his face finally eased, the tension leaving his stance. “You’re capable of your own brand of cruelty. I’d thought it a joke but didn’t want to take that chance.”

You folded the paper, calming yourself with a deep breath. “My mom is sick. I came to take care of her. That’s what it was supposed to say.”

Sheathing his sword, all aggression left him. “My actions are… regrettable.”

Biting your lip to keep from laughing again, you waved an arm toward the house. “She’s inside if you want to see her. Maybe you can work some of your Oracle magic.”

He looked at the house, his frown still sharp and face growing red. With a nod, he walked past you, through the absurd amount of flowers that now littered the yard, and went inside.

You looked around at the sylleblossoms, losing count of how many bundles there actually were, even less likely to figure out how many individual flowers each one had. You waved at one of the guards. “How many flowers did your boss make you fly over the ocean with?”

She blinked at you as if surprised that you were talking to her. “A thousand.”

Nodding, you gave the flowers yet another once over. This seemed about right. Ravus was as extra as always. You walked through them, standing just far enough away to take a picture, which you immediately sent to Luna.

 **_You:_ ** _Your brother has outdone himself._

On your walk back to Mom’s house, your phone rang. It pulled you from your inner debate over whether or not you should invite the guards inside, as well. Seeing Luna’s face on your screen wasn’t so much a surprise. She often responded to your texts with calls.

“Congratulations!” she yelled before you could even speak upon answering the call. “I understand your reservations about me calling you my family, but I couldn’t ask for a better sister.”

“Congrats for what?”

She paused, a soft “Oh” falling from her. Then, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed you would accept. I merely thought, due to the jest of your message, that you had told my brother yes.”

You tried to piece together what she was saying and the ridiculous display that was in the front yard. “Yes to what, exactly?”

Other voices came through in the background of the call, and you heard Luna gasp. In a rush, she didn’t answer your question, instead asking her own. “Where are you?”

“My mom’s,” you answered, not feeling an end to the confusion.

Luna spoke to someone away from the phone, and you took a deep breath in through your nose, trying to be patient. When she spoke again, her voice was much less airy. “I cannot believe Ravus crossed the Wall without his Majesty’s consent. All for a marriage proposal. I have to go and explain this immediately.”

She hung up on you without explaining further, but your mind had lulled anyway. Walking back to the same guard, you asked, “Is this a proposal? A thousand sylleblossoms?”

She shook her head. “A hundred would’ve been a proposal. This is overkill.”

Understanding nothing, you finally made your way back inside. You found Ravus asking your mom questions about her condition. Her responses were slow, but Ravus met them with patience. You looked away from the scene to the crumpled paper you still had in hand.

His response to this outrageous message had been to gather enough flowers for ten marriage proposals and storm across Eos to kill your ex-boyfriend? You laughed again, wadding up the note.

“I’m gonna make tea,” you announced, touching Ravus’ shoulder on your way past. You threw the paper into the trash bin. Putting your focus on making tea, you sorted through your thoughts on the dropship outside in the wheatfield, on the flowers spread out on the lawn, and on the man talking with Mom in the living room.

Misunderstandings weren’t common between you and Ravus. For one of this magnitude to happen seemed almost karmic in nature just to balance out how well things had been going so far. You watched the tea steep in the cups, staring into the slowly darkening water.

A beautiful feeling overtook you, contentment so heavy, you hummed softly as you placed the teacups on a tray with sugar cubes. Returning to the living room with the tea, you put the tray on the coffee table and interrupted their conversation.

 _Take your medicine,_ you told Mom, opening the pill bottle and putting a couple of them on the saucer next to her cup. Turning to Ravus, you said aloud, “We should talk.”

He looked up from dropping a fourth sugar cube into his cup.

Back in the kitchen, you tried not to think about how weird it felt to have him here, surrounded by Mom’s kitschy junk.

“Yes,” you blurted.

He didn’t seem to understand, his brow furrowing.

“Should I say it ten times since you brought a thousand of them?” You shifted your weight from foot to foot, feeling your heart begin to race. “In Tenebraen? Oui, is that good?”

Eyes widening in realization, Ravus searched your face. “I was under the impression you weren’t aware of the meaning.”

“A guard told me,” you said, offering the half truth. You didn’t want to explain the call with Luna. “And my answer is yes.”

It was as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He swallowed hard, looking down at your hand when you lifted it up between you.

“Uh, I guess, ring,” you said intelligently. Words were becoming difficult to form with how hard your heart was beating.

He delved a hand into his robes and withdrew something golden, held by a chain that matched in color. Not a ring but the hourglass you’d bought in Altissia. He opened the clasp, and you stepped closer to him, brushing your hair over a shoulder.

When it was on, you looked down at it, lifting a hand up to touch its golden surface. The moment it made contact with your hand, a warm spark of _something_ quaked through you. Eyes shooting up to Ravus’ face, you gaped.

“When?”

He gave you a little smile. “Not long after our return from Niflheim.”

Hand dropping from the hourglass, you returned the smile in full. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ravus’ gaze was anywhere but on you for a moment, a light blush dusting his high cheekbones. “I wished for our lovemaking to happen naturally.”

Hiding a giggle with pursed lips, you closed the distance between you, touching his jaw. He leaned down, face drawing close to yours. His mouth opened, but whatever he planned to say was interrupted by the loud sound of cars arriving outside.

Going out to the porch in confusion for the second time in less than half an hour, you saw that they weren’t just any cars that lined the circle of Mom’s long driveway. Black, armored, and spilling Kingsglaive out on the lawn, the vehicles were as serious as the look on Ravus’ face when you looked over at him in anticipation.

One Glaive, who seemed to be the leader of this group that had taken over the yard, walked toward the porch. “Your Highness, the king wants an audience with you.”

Ravus squared his shoulders. “So he sends his men.”

The Glaive seemed to have a sense of humor, a wry smile coming to his face and a shrug rolling over his shoulders. “Until a few minutes ago, this _was_ an attack mission, my lord.”

Ravus gave a curt nod to that, then looked down at you. A hand to your cheek, he kissed you once, softly. “I’ll return to do what I can for your mother.”

You gripped the front of his robes to stop him from leaving and kissed him with all of the feeling you had. Your heart sang, his arms wrapped around you, and the world stopped in that moment, just for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you for reading, loves_ <3


	8. Because you’re hoping you’re wrong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engagenents are stressful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And lo, some drama.

The engagement had everyone you knew in a complete conniption. Between Gladio’s phone call of _are you fucking serious, juicy?_ and Aranea’s sarcastic _congrats, kid,_ you were thankful for whatever support you could get. Prompto was ecstatic, Luna even more so, and Ignis, with his simple text of _Congratulations_ had, thus far, been one of the few without a complaint.

Mom was all worry, which was annoying because it did little to help her recovery. Ravus had done what he could before leaving for Tenebrae. His penalty for taking advantage of the alliance between your kingdoms had been a ban, a personal embargo of his presence within the Wall for the rest of the calendar year. So he’d returned to Mom’s, healed what he could, and left within the twenty four hour limit King Regis had given him to be outside the Wall.

It was going on three weeks since you’d seen him now, and you were missing him fiercely. Mom, with all of her worry, was no help in that. She wasn’t so sure of this engagement. At first it was slight wariness. She knew you were serious with Ravus, but _this_ serious? You began to think she’d been waiting for the day that you’d return home, not for you to announce that you’d never be moving back to Insomnia.

As you continued to help out, sticking around to make sure she recovered completely, her worries became more substantial, things that she felt the need to share, no matter how it might’ve hurt you.

It seemed unfair to her, that a child, such as yourself, would be burdened with the role of duchess of an entire kingdom. You were twenty four. That was plenty old enough, you thought. Besides, you weren’t in a rush to gain the title or get married immediately.

She also didn’t like that it meant you’d be so far away. She was alone, and if something happened to her again, you may not have a chance to say goodbye from all the travel needed just to get home. That point had been harsh, a complete turn from the Mom you knew.

You’d called Ravus in a tearful rage, and he’d been able to see Mom’s point of view in a way that you clearly couldn’t. He calmed you of the guilt she was trying to put on you, and gave you the right mindset to approach her over her doubts.

It had culminated into an apology, and she’d admitted that she’d had her heart set on a different young man in your life. You didn’t ask who because you knew. She ended the conversation by saying she was proud of you and your decisions, but the sprig of doubt had been planted.

So things were more than a little weird during your stay at Mom’s. Prompto would visit, usually with Luna, and you’d use their excitement to build up your own. Engagements were supposed to be thrilling, all of the possibilities and feelings of love coming together. A guilty part of you felt cheated that you’d spent it away from Ravus so far.

“If you believe your mother to be unbearable, simply wait until you return,” Ravus said over the phone. “Mine is already suggesting you be crowned duchess so you may attend St. Aera’s Academy.”

You stomped around your bedroom, pacing because today had been trying. Mom seemed over it all, showing only support and love for the engagement now, but your anxiety wouldn’t let go of the earlier doubt and worry. Things like that didn’t just disappear. She was covering it up now that she knew it upset you, and you hated it.

“The academy? You mean that wife training factory?”

Ravus sighed. “It is an adult finishing school for noblewomen.”

Gross. It sounded terrible, and he had to know that. “It’s only for noblewomen?”

“Yes.”

You rolled your eyes. “And your mom thinks I should go. Of course she does.”

Ravus seemed tired, his voice a deep, lovely sound coming through the phone. You wished he was next to you. “There is something you could learn from it, I’m sure, but it’s a quandary. To be fit for the title, you’d need such training. To receive the training, you’d first need the title to be admitted.”

 _Fit for the title._ You tried not to let that get under your skin. Everything seemed to be stressing you out lately. Mom’s doubts about your ability to handle being a duchess had become your own, and if Ravus had any at all, you were surely going to have a meltdown.

—

When you’d invited Ignis over for lunch, it had been a friendly overture in hopes of getting out of your funk. You needed a friendly face who wasn’t going to bring up the engagement the entire time, and it helped that it would double in cheering Mom up. If she liked Ignis so much, _she_ could have him. You’d been through too much and felt like you were fighting an ever constant battle of just moving the fuck on.

Ignis had been the only one so far who hadn’t visited even though he asked about Mom’s health every other day. Once he arrived, he helped with cooking the meal, made Mom smile, and reminded you of why you’d wanted to keep him in your life despite everything.

Touching the blessed hourglass that hang from your neck, you stifled laughter over Mom hushing him in the middle of a question about the engagement. It was comfortable having Ignis there without the tension you’d grown to expect in the recent years of your strained friendship. His easy smiles and friendly gestures were precisely what you needed right now. It was surprising but welcome.

That was until he did something that was very Ignis of him. Cleaning up together in the kitchen, he dried everything that you washed, his hands practiced and steady. You stopped mid-hum when you held out a cup and found him sending you a serious look.

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

You watched him dry the cup. “What kind of favor? A big, weird one involving a lie?”

His mouth twitched with a near smile, and he put the cup away. “No lies involved, but it is along the same vein of unusual as the last large favor I requested of you.”

You shook your head, fighting a smile yourself. “Oh, no. I’m not doing _anything_ unusual for you.” The last time you’d agreed to some whack shit he’d asked of you, it had brought you together and torn you apart. You weren’t doing that again.

Ignis’ serious look returned, green eyes focused on the simple task of drying as if it were the most important thing in the world.

“Well, tell me what it is, at least,” you said, scrubbing a pan with hard movements. “So I can be aware of what I’m rejecting.”

Quiet stretched for several beats. A breeze blew in through the open window above the sink and birds could be heard in the distance. Sending Ignis a side glance, you stopped your scrubbing to really consider him and the frown set on his handsome face.

“I would like to sign my noble rights over to you,” he said, one of his hands closing into a fist in the damp cloth he’d been using to dry. His eyes went to you, holding you in place. “Temporarily. Until my divorce is finalized.”

You stared at him, unsure of how to take this. Gladio had mentioned Ignis wanting to separate from his wife, but a political reason kept him from even filing. This had to be related, but did it have to involve you?

“Why sign away your rights?” That was better to ask than question his reason for getting a divorce at all. A small bit of relief came to you at this confirmation of Gladio’s gossip.

“If I relinquish them, she will have no hold to keep my county in the separation.”

You rose a brow. “Dude, tell me you signed that thing that means you keep your assets.”

He nodded, looking down at the cloth in his hands. “We did sign a prenuptial agreement. She insisted on it as her net worth far exceeds my own. The issue lies in her remaining a countess until we are fully separated, which means she could argue to win full rights over it.”

“She could strip you of your title,” you said plainly, hoping you understood. “You’d be a pleb.”

Ignis took a deep breath, his mouth pulling into a harder frown. “Precisely.”

You didn’t exactly understand, but sure. Why the hell not? Being a commoner probably sucked, but he’d still be Noct’s advisor. He’d remain one of the most important people in the Crown City. Instead of pointing that out, you asked, “Why sign them over to _me_?”

As if expecting this, he had an immediate answer. “It has to be a commoner. Mixing houses with a contract that isn’t marriage can be overly complicated and messy.” He looked at you again, his hands making busy work of folding the cloth perfectly. “I have few that I trust with this. I could ask Prompto just as well, but…”

Trying to follow his line of thinking, you smiled a little. “But you’re spiteful.”

If he had to give something so important away, even temporarily, why not to someone his wife must hate? It would be insult to injury, asking for a divorce right after handing over the title of countess to you. You wanted to say yes now, based on the pure meanness of it.

“Perhaps,” he relented with a small smile. “It’s a large favor, but I hope you will consider, after discussing with Ravus, of course.”

Of course?

“I don’t need Ravus’ permission to help out a friend,” you said, forgetting the chore at hand to cross your arms and frown up at him.

He frowned back. “It would be best if you spoke with him. Something of this nature could affect your engagement.”

He was the last person who should be giving relationship advice, you thought. “Ravus isn’t threatened by you, Iggy. It’s not an issue.” You unfolded your arms to wave a hand vaguely. “He’d just tell me it was my choice to make.”

Ignis kept hard eyes on you, clearly not convinced. You didn’t care. _He_ was the one asking for a favor. Your relationship with Ravus had never been so solid; convincing Ignis of this would only be cruel since his own was falling apart.

The pleasant afternoon had shifted with this conversation. You both finished the chore and spent more time with Mom. Through most of it, your mind was busy going over the pros and cons of helping Ignis with this matter. You didn’t want him to lose his county, and becoming nobility would get you into that stupid academy like the Oracle wanted.

“I’ll do it,” you said as you walked with him to his fancy car as evening approached. “I’ll hold your rights for a while, or whatever.”

Ignis looked surprised, then smiled slightly. “You have my thanks.”

You nodded, feeling a rush at the thought of how you were going to share this news with Ravus. “Just let me know what I need to do.”

He paused with the door to his car opened, seeming to think for a moment. “Come to my family’s estate before you go back to Tenebrae.”

You went back inside, resisting the urge to announce to Mom that she was _sort of_ getting her wish. You were going to be an honorary Scientia, or so you assumed, until he was able to finally free himself of his bad decisions.

—

The Scientia estate was somehow both exactly what you imagined and not at all like your old fantasies had been. Located on the other side of the Crown City, the grand house was sprawled out on an enclosed private property, bordered by both gilded fences and high shrubbery. You felt immensely weird driving through the main gate in Mom’s shitty old truck.

Although you were shown in, introduced to, and led around by members of Ignis’ family, you’d yet to see your friend himself.

“He’s never here anymore,” said a woman you thought might be a cousin, if you could make heads or tails of what everyone was saying around you. “Hasn’t been since we were babies, really. With his important Citadel job, working for the crown like most of our family used to.” It sounded neither bitter, nor caustic. Bored, almost.

This peek into this part of his life that you’d never known about was fascinating. She walked you through the opulent residence, doing most of the talking. It was with relief when Ignis caught you in a corridor.

“Why didn’t you tell me she arrived?” he asked her, his expression taking on a look of annoyance usually reserved for Noctis.

Next to you, the woman shrugged. “I was bored. She’s cute.”

Ignis shook his head, waving for you to follow. “Come this way.”

“Your family’s cool,” you said, giving him a smile he didn’t return.

“There are so few of us left,” he said with a small sigh. “Unfortunate that I seem to be the only one, aside from my uncle, who doesn’t wish to merely squander our funds and remain idle.”

You perked up at the mention of Uncle. “How’s he, by the way?”

Ignis stopped at a doorway, hand on the knob and eyes meeting yours. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’ll be overseeing the signing.”

He held the door for you, ushering you in with the same impatient attitude he’d had from the moment he’d appeared. Walking into a drawing room, you nodded at Uncle, who stood up from an armchair upon your arrival.

Beyond the pleasantries you endured for the sake of politeness, an in-depth explanation was given at exactly what you were getting yourself into. Like you’d thought, you would be an honorary member of House Scientia, much like someone marrying into the family. No name change, just the added prefix of _Lady_ when you were spoken to and the title of countess.

Ignis wanted to keep running the county and planned to do everything as usual, sending anything that would need a signature to you for a stamp of approval. Once his divorce was finalized, you’d sign the rights back to him. It was that simple.

Your signature was so much messier than his, scrawled out next to his elegance. You pointed that out with a grin, eliciting a small chuckle from Uncle. He welcomed you to the family, and it was surreal, to shake his hand and be addressed as _Lady._

Ignis finally eased, smiling when you smoothly avoided shaking his hand. He was suddenly the commoner, and you had to practice snubbing people and being a dickhead now that you had the apparent right to do so.

Leaving the estate feeling thoughtful, you were determined not to let him down. You weren’t going to let anyone down. This decision would get you into that academy, which would make the Oracle happy and give Mom relief about your readiness to take on being a duchess.

To you, this seemed to be the most beneficial thing for all parties involved. If this wasn’t a sign of good decision making skills, you didn’t know what was.

—

The teacup shattered against the floor, dropped from Ravus’ hand in the parlor the moment you told him. You’d been in Tenebrae for all of four hours, and in the manor for two. He’d hugged you, he’d kissed you, and he’d invited you to tea, pacing the room in an uncharacteristic fashion as he told you of how his mother was trying to drive him mad with her grand ideas for you and the wedding.

It had fallen out of you, held in because you’d wanted to tell him and the Oracle at the same time. But it was too exciting.

“Ignis gave me his noble rights. I’m a countess now.”

Cue the shattering glass, the look of shock on Ravus’ face, and the dying smile on yours. You got up from your seat, picking up one of the cloth napkins from the coffee table on your way toward him and the mess at his feet.

“That isn’t an amusing jest,” he said, bending to pick up the pieces. “I’ve endured a month without you. I cannot abide—”

When you bent down to wipe at the spill, he looked up, falling quiet when meeting your eyes. He thought you were joking, and you didn’t understand that. Was it so unthinkable that you could ever be nobility? That bud of doubt in you grew, and you looked down, focusing on cleaning up the spilled tea.

A piece of the jagged porcelain tore through the cloth, biting into your palm. You hissed, lifting your hand to look at the gash of blood. Ravus put down the pieces he’d gathered and took your hand into both of his.

“Why would you do that?” It was quiet, spoken between you softly.

“I’m just trying to help,” you mumbled, gritting your teeth at the burning of his magic healing the cut.

Ravus frowned. “No. Why would you accept his title without first speaking with me?”

Your jaw dropped a little. This was exactly what Ignis had said. Since when had the men in your life become so controlling?

“I didn’t realize I needed to run everything by you first,” you said with a glare at your freshly healed hand.

Ravus traced a finger over where the cut had closed and disappeared, his voice low. “Are we not partners?”

Your expression eased when you looked up again, meeting his intent gaze. He blinked, hair falling over an eye. One of his hands leaving yours, he brushed it back with a frown.

“Tell me everything,” he said, coming to a stand and pulling you up with him by your hand. You pointed at the mess, but he ignored it, walking you back toward the seating. “Did he trick you into this somehow?”

You pulled your hand from his, insulted all over again. So it _was_ absurd to think you could be nobility, and even more so that you’d have half a brain to make the choice yourself? “No. He asked me for a favor, and I said yes.”

He wanted to hear it so you told him in a long, annoyed rant exactly what had happened from your lingering doubts thanks to Mom, to Ignis’ divorce, to how shitty Ravus was making you feel right this very moment when all you’d been trying to do was make everyone happy. He wasn’t being _fair._

“What about you?” he asked, not accepting the invitation to your pity party. “Does this make _you_ happy?”

“Who cares?” You threw up your hands. “It’s only temporary, anyway. Just long enough to get me into that stupid fucking academy.”

Ravus glared down at you. “I’ve told you it’s a waste of your time.”

“Only because you think I’m not good enough, right?” You felt your anxiety come to a sudden and hard head, heavy and painful in your chest. “You don’t think I’m fit to hold your fancy title so why even send me when I’d fail?”

Lip curling in a scowl, Ravus turned his glare upward. “You fail to understand.” He took a deep breath, looking down when he let it out. The scowl eased into a frown. “This bypasses the duchess role entirely. Your crowning will make you a princess. If we marry before Scientia divorces, he’ll no longer have access to his rights.”

Taking this in, you nodded slightly. “Okay, well, I’m not in a rush to get married, anyway. That won’t become an issue.”

Ravus didn’t say anything for several long moments, his frown becoming a flat line, his face neutral. You stared back. It gave you the worst feeling, and you forced your gaze away in discomfort.

“The Oracle has already set a date,” he said, making your stomach drop.

“Already?” you practically yelled. It bounced around the parlor walls, and now you were pacing much like Ravus had been when you’d first begun this teatime. No wonder he’d been so frustrated. You looked from him to your feet to your hands as you paced and thought. “She can’t just _decide_ that for us, Ravus.”

“You know she has that right as Queen,” he said, voice softer than earlier.

You stopped pacing to focus on him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and your irritation, at least towards him, melted away when he dropped his hand to give you a tired look. You weren’t the only one who’d spent the last month at the mercy of a parent who didn’t quite know how to deal with this change in a way that agreed with you both.

Closing the distance, you threw arms around his waist, burying yourself into his robes. He smelled like the old books in the private library and the faint pinch of his magic. “When is it?”

His arms encircled you, and you felt his chin rest on your head. When he spoke, it rumbled in his chest against your cheek. “You’re to be crowned duchess in December. Princess if Scientia is slow moving. We marry next spring.”

That was more time than you were anticipating with how quickly these royals operated, but still, it was too soon for your liking. “No specific date?”

He held you tighter, a sigh rocking his chest. “It doesn’t matter. The planning may only worsen when we tell her of your newfound nobility.”

You chewed on your lip. “I’m sure Ignis will hurry.” It couldn’t take _that_ long to get a divorce.

“That isn’t something we can control. Be aware that I’m angry with you over this.”

“You don’t seem angry.”

He sighed again, speaking into your hair. “I’m happy you’re home. It’s clouding my better judgement, for the moment”

You were caught on him saying you were _home._ Closing your eyes, you let the blanket of calm that was his hold fall over you in comforting waves. You may have created a small mess, but for now, you were safe.

—

You had to quit your job to attend the academy during the weekdays. It wasn’t like you loved being a camera person, but being on set had become your natural habitat. Here, in this ancient building in the middle of the city, you felt obscenely out of place.

You twisted the ring on your finger nervously, not used to it yet. Ravus had given it to you once he’d gotten over his initial upset at your hasty decision. You still stood by your choice, but you knew, in hindsight, that you should’ve talked with Ravus about it first. It seemed obvious now.

You loved your independence, but he was going to be your _husband,_ and decisions this huge affected him, too. This was something you were going to have to change about your basic instincts and personality. You weren’t alone anymore; you hadn’t been for a long time.

The presence of the ring was a good reminder of that. It was old, an heirloom Ravus had said, from an Oracle who’d come several generations before his mother. It wrapped around your finger in an intricate band with a large stone, and you’d never held something so precious.

Losing it was a worry, but you learned on the first day that most noblewomen in Tenebrae wore gloves. After buying some the next day, you kept the ring hidden and intact underneath them as you attended long lectures, practiced social scenarios, and, probably the only part you enjoyed, trained to fight.

Although the social roleplay could be fun, in its own way.

“ _Do you like cats? I love cats._ ” You had to speak Tenebraen, given that was the native tongue for most of them. You’d been learning it pretty well so far, an attempt to understand Ravus as best you could while dating him.

The noblewoman assigned to play out the social situation with you lifted a hand to her mouth as she gasped. “ _I beg your pardon_?”

You took in this reaction with surprise. Were cats off limits to talk about? Really, the stupid, inane rules for what was appropriate or not drove you a little crazy. Being a noble, so far, seemed to mean people in the manor now treated you with more respect but at the cost of your comfort. You couldn’t behave in your usual silly, uncaring manner. You represented both Ignis and Ravus now.

While Ravus didn’t care about social protocol, Ignis very much did, and you didn’t want his next visit to Tenebrae to be filled with whispers about how his family name associated with someone who didn’t know her ass end from a decent conversation about cats.

The teacher interfered, stepping onto the little platform where each scenario was performed while the class looked on. That part wasn’t as uncomfortable as you’d imagined. Your entire life had become performance; you were okay with this. What you weren’t okay with was the constant string of comments and gossip about you that never seemed to reach your ears. It itched and pulled, but you hadn’t made a single friend in this place yet.

“ _What did you say_?” the teacher asked, just as appalled as your performance partner was.

You shrugged. “ _I asked if she liked cats._ ”

A burst of giggles surrounded you, and your partner’s face grew a little red. She was a pretty noblewoman who had an adorable gap between her front teeth. You’d never seen that in person, and now that she was blushing, you found her all the much cuter. She had been one of the few you’d hoped to befriend, but that seemed unlikely now.

“ _Where did you learn such colorful language_?” the teacher all but demanded, stepping between you and the other woman.

Colorful? You didn’t understand, shaking your head. “ _Prince Ravus. He calls me a cat sometimes._ ”

Another round of giggles, and now even the teacher was blushing. You didn’t feel the need to tell them that he’d only call you that when his fingers were buried inside you, a heated whisper against your skin while you writhed under him. But from the look on their faces, it was like they somehow knew.

The teacher cleared her throat, suddenly using Lucian. “I think there is a mistranslation. What are you trying to say?”

You fiddled with the gloves on your hands. “Do you like cats?”

Nodding in understanding, the teacher gave you a patient look. “I don’t wish to be vulgar, but you aren’t saying _cat_. You’re saying _pussy_. In our language, it’s similar but carries very different connotations. You only say _chatte_ with a lover.”

Now you were blushing, too. You’d admitted more about your relationship with Ravus than you wanted to a room full of giggling noblewomen who would storm the upper side of the city and the manor with talk about you as soon as lessons ended for the day. How was it that you _still_ hadn’t slept with him, but the world forever seemed to think you had?

Leaving the class for combat training, you weaved through the building, past laughing whispers of _do you like pussies?_ on your way to the training facilities.

 **_You:_ ** _I can’t believe you’ve been calling me your chatte DURING SEX, YOU JERK._

 **_Ravus:_ ** _You dislike being called my cat?_

 **_You:_ ** _That’s not the direct translation. You know what you called me._

 **_You:_ ** _Good luck ever seeing MY chatte again._

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Unfortunate, but I’m a patient man._

 **_You:_ ** _You have a filthy mouth for a future Oracle._

 **_You:_ ** _I’m telling your mom._

 **_You:_ ** _She’ll be so disappointed in you for your bad language and the fact that we’ll never give her grandkids now._

 **_You:_ ** _Because I totally mean it, papa-gâteau. This chatte is off limits from now on._

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I cannot be blamed for what you make me say and do in the heat of passion._

 **_You:_ ** _Calling someone a pussy in Lucian is an insult, you know!_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I don’t understand that concept. They are desirable and life-giving, much like you are to me._

 **_Ravus:_ ** _It’s not intended to insult. I enjoy the lewd sounds you make and being the one who can draw them from you._

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I await the day we can have each other fully, and if I should call you my chatte then, I hope you understand it’s because of your effect on me._

Hiding your phone in a pocket of your bag, you shoved it into a locker and began to change. That was the most he’d ever sent through text, and the content of it being so sexual had all of your thoughts muddled. Not good before physical training.

In fear of what other Tenebraen words you could’ve possibly learned incorrectly, you wondered if you should attend an actual class like the knight was doing for Lucian. Maybe you could study together and learn from each other.

It was worth consideration, but now you had to turn off your brain and let your instincts kick in, using the humiliation that burned inside to fuel you in fighting.

—

Tightly bound at your wrists, the rope was smooth but still dug into your skin every time you tried to pull your hands apart. The air was cold against your naked body, the sunlight pouring in through the large windows lighting up one of the manor’s training rooms around you.

The statues and empty suits of armor seemed to stare, but most prominent to you was the faceless training dummy right in front of you. Wrists caught at the back of its neck, your bare chest brushed against its hard, wooden surface with each breath that rocked out of you.

Hands came to your sides, a touch that burned, and you tried to look over your shoulder at who held you captive. Ravus lifted a hand to brush your hair out of the way, an open-mouthed kiss landing on your neck. Your legs weakened, and you closed your eyes.

His hands moved along your curves, over your breasts and down your stomach and hips. His tongue and teeth sent shivers down your back, leaving a wet trail of bites along your shoulders. Your breath hitched when one of his hands caressed an inner thigh, fingers skating gently over sensitive skin. The barest touch at your core had you aching.

“You have been so patient,” he said against your neck, breathy as if he were the one being teased. “Tell me what you want.”

He parted you with his fingers, brushing them against you with shallow movements that didn’t satisfy. You panted at the attention, a whine falling out of you. “Please, Ravus, I’m tired of waiting.” Shifting against his fingers only made him use even more shallow touches, just the tips of his fingers circling you.

“Tell me, ma chatte.” He brought his other hand up, sliding it along your side to cup a breast. “Tell me what you want.”

You arched at his fingers entering you without warning, no answer forming on your lips because you’d become nothing more than an overheated mess of shuddered breaths. He slid fingers in and out of you, curling and rubbing in a long familiar way. Your head fell back, hitting his chest, and your legs shook.

The rope at your wrists dug at your skin as you writhed, jerking and pulling against the bond that held you in place with the tall training dummy. The smooth, cool wood of it against your front was a hard contrast to the burning touch of Ravus’ body at your back. He was hard and kept brushing against your lower back as he made you melt into his arms.

“Ravus, please,” you mewled, tightening around his fingers. “Fuck me. I-I can’t take it anymore.”

His fingers left you, hands coming to your hips. You felt his cock brush against you, and your head fell forward onto the hard chest of the dummy. Pushing into you with one hard jerk of his hips against yours, Ravus arched over you, burying his face into your neck with heavy breaths.

It didn’t hurt like you’d expected, being filled with him so suddenly. When he began a steady rhythm against you, your head hit the wood of the dummy’s chest with a solid _thud, thud, thud._ His hands gripped your hips hard, pulling you back to meet his every thrust in rough pulls of your body against his. Another thing that should’ve hurt, but you were too far gone in bliss to notice.

Hands, different from the ones that dug into your hips, came to your breasts. They kneaded, teasing the nipples and squeezing the fullness of them. You fluttered your eyes open, a difficult thing suddenly, to find the source of the extra hands. Lifting your head brought you close to a familiar face, perfect bow lips brushing yours between heated breaths.

Sweat lined Ignis’ brow, his eyes on you with hard focus. Your hands, still bound and caught at his neck, played with the soft hair at his nape. Ravus pushed you against him, what had just been the wooden chest of the dummy now becoming the hard planes of ivory skin that you hadn’t touched in years.

His green eyes pierced, cutting into you as Ravus buried himself deep and bit your shoulder. Ignis smiled, leaning forward until his nose touched yours.

“Hello, darling,” he spoke against your lips.

Waking abruptly, you sat up and gasped for air. Looking around your small bedroom you blinked against the early morning sunlight and flopped back on the bed. The light stretched along the ceiling, and you stared at it blankly.

What the _fuck_ had that been?

Rolling out of bed a quarter of an hour later, you washed away the sweat and lingering arousal you had over the dream, a sinking feeling growing in your gut that felt like heavy stones holding you down.

—

Something was off. Something was very, very off. People rarely addressing you at the academy was normal. The giggling, the jealous comments about you being with the prince— you were used to it all. But people were staring today, gawking at you openly as you walked through the halls and attended the lessons. It was worse than grade school, this extreme sense of _otherness_ that had overcome you.

It didn’t become clear why people were gawking, as if they had somehow known about the dirty dream you’d had that morning, until you were changing in the locker rooms just before sparring practice.

“ _Yes, it’s definitely her,_ ” someone said from across the sweaty, smelly space. She kept looking from you to her phone and back, speaking in low tones with another woman.

You stared back, unashamed of your chest on display as you tugged a sports bra on. You walked toward them, and the amusement on their faces died.

“ _Show me,_ ” you said, curious about what they could possibly be comparing you to. They avoided meeting your eyes, parting from each other and walking off without acknowledging you. With a scowl, you looked between them before moving your gaze to others around you. “ _Seriously, someone show me._ ”

“ _I will._ ” The cute woman with the diastema, who was most often partnered with you, stepped your way. She slid a finger over her phone, coming to your side to let you see.

An image of you, bare skin, body spread out enticingly on expensive bedding. A purple coeurl printed shirt with its buttons undone to reveal breasts that looked especially perky from the angle. Legs crossed as if to tease at what lay hidden between them. Your face, framed by your hair, was flushed and flirtatious in the picture.

Shaken, you blinked hard and reached for her phone. She held it out of reach, frowning at you.

“ _There are more._ ”

That sinking feeling you’d had since morning only grew as she flipped through the images. They were old nudes you barely remembered taking. They’d somehow gotten onto a celebrity gossip site overnight, spreading across the internet by lunchtime.

You put on a shirt, gathering your things and leaving the locker room with your nose buried in your phone. They were _everywhere_ you looked, accompanied by titles like _Slutty Little Shrimp_ or _Countess Reveals Her Assets,_ which was honestly more insulting for just how bad a play on words it was.

You weren’t a celebrity. These should’ve been gaining zero notoriety. You told yourself this, but you knew better. On the track to becoming royalty, everything you did was placed under a microscope now, even your past, apparently.

What had you feeling worst of all was the very nature of the nudes that had leaked. The shirt and driving gloves you wore were dead giveaways as to the only person who had, to you knowledge, ever received those photos. And, although you couldn’t quite remember the circumstances now, you knew it had been his bed that you’d been laying on when taking them.

The world seeing your tits was one thing. The world seeing you so exposed in a way that read _I’m Ignis Scientia’s little slut_ was something entirely different.

You brushed past people on your way through the academy, the stares becoming rude remarks when you absentmindedly bumped into people.

“ _Get your nasty hands away from me,_ ” someone said, shoving you from behind.

Stumbling, you looked back but couldn’t be sure who had pushed you. It didn’t even matter; you’d brushed past all of them on your way through. You didn’t have time for this. Continuing through to the main exit, you dialed Ravus and tried your damnedest to not hyperventilate.

“Did you see them?” you asked as soon as your heard the click of his answer.

“Did I see what? Do you mean the video?”

You stepped out into the overcast day, eyes growing wide. “Video? I’m talking about the— Ugh, what video?”

Ravus sighed. “Come to the manor immediately.”

You opened your mouth to object, but he disconnected the call. Looking down the grand stoop of the academy, you did your best not to fall on your rush down the steps, hands busy on your phone to call the next person. He didn’t pick up, the line going to his voicemail on the fifth ring.

“You son of a bitch!” you yelled, gaining the stares of passersby, though it was thankfully unlikely that they knew what you were saying. “I thought we were friends. How could you send naked pictures of me to the media? I can’t fucking _believe_ you would humiliate me like this when I’m _helping_ you.”

You were beginning to cry, something you absolutely hated doing, least of all in public. So you hung up and headed for the train station. Wiping at your eyes, you stomped down on the anger that burned in your chest. Prompto had said Ignis knew how to torture, and you really believed it. He knew exactly how to hurt you, always.

On the train up the mountain, he called back. At first, you didn’t want to answer. You weren’t going to hear out whatever excuse he had or listen to him admit that he resented you for choosing Ravus. But you were compelled to yell at him directly, and picked up your phone with a near screech.

“Fuck you! Why would you do this to me?”

Ignis was immediate in response, his deep voice coming out in as much a rush as yours. “I am terribly sorry. It wasn’t me, but my wife.”

“Oh, right,” you bit at him. “Because she’s the one I sent those pictures to. They have nothing at all to do with you. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“I _do_ apologize. I’d no idea she had access to my private photos.”

“ _Your_ private photos?” You tried to keep your voice down for the sake of the other occupants in the car, but the train was plenty loud to cover your more colorful words, anyway. “They’re fucking nudes of _me._ You shouldn’t even—” You ground your teeth. “I took those when we dated like, _three_ years ago. I won’t ask why you still have them. Just— send me the godsdamned paperwork I need to give you your rights back and never fucking contact me again.”

Before you could hang up, he said your name. It was quick and slightly desperate.

“This is what she wants,” he said, and you chewed on your lip as you listened. “For me to lose your support. The divorce isn’t going smoothly. I should’ve anticipated some form of retaliation for giving the title to you.”

You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut and covering them with a hand. This was giving you a headache, your chest hurting and your stomach roiling. He was right. This was an obvious attack, and it was unfortunately working in both confusing and hurting you.

If you were going to be mad at Ignis for holding onto the photos, you may as well have been mad at yourself for taking them. His wife was the one who’d broken the unspoken agreement that surrounded nudes that any decent person knew to follow. The only one with the right to share them was the subject in them.

“Ignis,” you said, the anger in you only growing. “Don’t bother me until the divorce is final. Try to make it quick. I have my own shit going on.”

This time, you hung up before he could keep you on for longer. You needed a moment to gather yourself for whatever it was that awaited you at the manor.

—

Being shown to Ravus’ study was new. It was usually off limits, a place where serious discussions took place, not a spot for your silliness or the more recent years of flirtatious behavior between yourself and the prince.

You stalled outside the door, and the guard that held it open stared at you. “My lady?”

Thought it had been some weeks since you’d gained the title, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to being addressed this way. You mumbled a thanks as you went inside, the door closing behind you. Ravus was already standing when you stepped into the room.

He nodded to a chair in front of his large desk, which he walked around as you sat down. His computer looked nice, if a bit underutilized. You watched him as he clicked and typed, neither of you speaking. His expression was impossible to read, a flat facade of something more that you could see in his busy eyes. They carefully examined something on the computer monitor, then shot to you.

“Come around,” he said, motioning with a hand.

Wondering why he’d asked you to sit in the first place, you got up and rounded his desk. On the display was the frozen thumbnail of a video on a porn site. As if the feelings of dread and humiliation that wracked you painfully weren’t enough, you felt a sick, acidic taste rise up from your throat when he pressed play.

It was low quality, both the image and the audio. But it was clear enough for the subject to be understood. The person in the video— let’s be real, it was you, it was fucking _you_ bobbing your head over the lap of the person taking the video.

You looked terrible, your makeup busted from a night of drinking, most likely, and your hair a sweaty, tangled mess that fell over your shoulders. You were giving a blowjob, the squelching sounds of it filling Ravus’ office and making you want to die.

“Babygirl, you’re so amazing,” said the person recording.

Even though you knew already who it was based on the bright condom that separated your mouth from the large dick it was wrapped around, the voice confirmed that it was that idiot Throbert you’d rebounded with after Ignis. You didn’t remember him ever recording anything, and felt ever sicker by the second as you watched the video with Ravus.

The you of the past glared up at something just above the camera and let the dick slip out of your mouth. “Don’t call me that.”

Throbert’s hand reached into frame to touch your face, and you slapped it away, returning to the blowjob with vigor.

Having had more than enough of this, you grabbed for the mouse and paused the video. Righting yourself to your full height, you covered your face with your hands. You couldn’t look at Ravus. He knew about your past, sure, but this was leagues beyond the humiliation you’d felt over the pictures. At least those had been something you’d created out of love and a want to share yourself with a partner.

This was repulsive, a reminder of how you’d been at one of your lowest points. Throbert had been stupid, but you hadn’t taken him for the kind of asshole who recorded his sexual acts without the consent of others, let alone uploading it for the entire world to see.

“Is there room for plausible deniability?” Ravus asked, breaking the silence.

You lowered your hands, but didn’t look at him or the paused video. “No. You can— when I slapped his hand away, you can see my tattoo.”

Hand coming to your wrist, you let your fingernails dig into the inked skin. A larger hand stopped you, making you let go. Chancing a look at Ravus, you found him glaring at your hands, held tightly in his own.

“I’m sorry,” you said, chest tighter than ever. Could you actually die from embarrassment? That would be a mercy at this point.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice nearly a growl. He was angry, and that only made you feel worse. He stood, not letting go of your hands. “Don’t apologize when _you_ are the one being harmed.”

You looked up at him, taking in the hard line of his jaw and the sharp furrow of his brow. He wasn’t angry with you, but for you. That felt… novel. It shouldn’t have, considering the part he always seemed to play in your life. This was another thing you’d have to get used to about never being alone again.

You were a team; what hurt you, hurt him.

“It looks bad,” you said, that dirty feeling creeping up your throat again. “No one's gonna want a duchess who has a sex tape and a ton of nudes out in the wild like this.”

Tenebrae had a much more relaxed society than Lucis, but with all of the rules that governed this role you were determined to be good enough for, you felt like there were exceptions.

“We will shut this down as soon as possible,” he said, letting go of a hand to touch your cheek in an reassuring gesture. “Don’t think there aren’t people we employ who haven’t had to do things such as this before.” He let go of you, going back to his computer to close out the window completely.

“I should get a PR manager,” you said, thinking out loud as you walked around his desk and began to pace the length of his study. “I should’ve done that a long time ago, honestly.”

“If you think that’s necessary.” He watched you pace, and you stopped to look back at him when he continued, “I’ve already contacted Scientia about the nude photos. I spoke to him this morning.”

“You what?”

Ravus inhaled deeply, a steadying breath. “We must address this as quickly as possible before things have a chance to get out of hand.”

You nodded, not fully understanding what that meant, but feeling comfort in the fact that Ravus, at least, seemed to know what he was doing.

—

Public opinion of you in Tenebrae was dismal. Much of what you saw about yourself in the media was tongue in cheek publicity as if to catch the attention of anyone who wanted a piece of the very sexy Lucian treat that Ravus had apparently snatched up. The Lucian outlets were more critical, both of you and of Ignis, questioning if his signing over his rights was a sign that your romance had recently reignited.

 _Is the soon-to-be Duchess of Tenebrae the reason for the Royal Advisor’s messy divorce?_ seemed to be the sensationalized question on everyone’s mind. It was the biggest question asked at the press conference you attended with Ravus and the Oracle, at least. With the flashing cameras and the overlapping questions, it was unpleasant sitting in front of a microphone when most of the inquiries were about you but addressed to someone else.

You let your mind wander about halfway through, mentally replaying the things that had happened in the past few days. Your old boss, the Producer, had called to offer his support almost immediately. Over coffee, he’d assured you that any publicity was good publicity. Then, he’d congratulated you on landing Ravus while retaining a lover back home in Insomnia, completely missing the point.

The director of the movie you’d written had let you know it was finally beginning production soon since everything was ready. You were to go back to Insomnia by the end of the month to help on set as a counseling writer. Your anxiety over what was happening put a damper on the excitement that you should’ve felt, and again, you felt cheated by the circumstances in which you found yourself.

Other than dealing with the fallout of the world witnessing you at your worst, much of your time was spent hiding in your apartment, ordering takeout to be delivered, and talking to Prompto. So far, the only way this had affected him was a massive blowout on an old photo he’d posted of you and Ignis sitting on a bench together with Kenny Crow. You hated that he’d had to delete it just to get media channels to stop requesting to use it in articles that only amplified the rumors.

Prompto was the only thing that made you feel sane through all of it. Ravus, too, to the extent that you’d gotten to see him. He’d been busy setting up this conference and having the photos and videos posted of you online removed one by one. It was an uphill and futile battle, but his blind rage on your behalf wasn’t something you wanted to argue with.

You looked at him down the table from you, sitting on the other side of the Oracle. Snapping back into the present, you realized he was in the middle of answering a question.

“ _In fact, her willingness to go so far to help a friend retain his dignity is one of the reasons I love her_ ,” he said in Tenebraen, a frown on his face. He was probably enjoying this even less than you were. “ _So yes. I fully support her decision to hold temporary nobility on his behalf._ ”

“ _Is it not self-serving since she can now be queen when you take the throne_?” asked someone from the audience.

You opened your mouth to say you had no desire whatsoever to be queen, but Ravus spoke first.

“ _Make no mistake, she would be a magnificent queen._ ”

Your mouth closed, and you looked his way again. He was so good at keeping himself composed. You admired and envied that he could say something so ridiculous with that serious face of his. Almost like he meant it. But that was the thing about Ravus; he always meant what he said. Your heart warmed in spite of this uncomfortable situation.

The Oracle leaned forward slightly, her head held high and blocking your view of Ravus. “ _Whether it be as queen consort or duchess, she will remain faithful to the Nox Fleuret family as she has always been. No further questions about Prince Noctis’ advisor will be addressed._ ”

You didn’t like this turn. There couldn’t be any room for confusion. You _weren’t_ becoming queen. Before you could interject —and what an interjection it would’ve been to contradict the Oracle on live television— she continued on.

“ _We’ve had extensive discussions_ —”

You had?

“— _about her future within our family_ —”

Okay, you had, but not since Ravus had proposed.

“— _and her interest in charity work and diplomacy_.”

This wasn’t quite the truth, you thought, but maybe Sylva was just preconceiving the discussions that she planned to have with you later. There hadn’t really been time to talk about anything since this mess had begun. You _were_ interested in charity and diplomacy, and had about half a million ideas on how you could use filmmaking to make the most of your place in the royal family.

“ _As some of you may know,_ ” she went on to say. “ _She has a film that is soon to be made, after which she will retire and begin her duties to both the crown and to you, the citizens of Tenebrae._ ”

That brought your mind to a halt. You frowned at her, then looked at your hands on the table. Maybe your Tenebraen needed more work than you thought, but it sounded like she was preemptively asserting things that she had never spoken to you about. Retire after your first big accomplishment? There was no way in hell _that_ was ever going to happen.

“I’d like to ask the countess what _she_ plans to do as queen,” another reporter spoke up, using Lucian to successfully gain your attention.

You moved your hands to your lap, squeezing them as you looked up at the audience. “I’m not going to be queen.” You cleared your throat, realizing a moment later that that probably wasn’t the best place to pause in your statement.

You wanted to tell them what your actual plans were, that you’d wait until Ignis could take his title back, you’d become duchess, and after a few years of working and planning, you’d marry Ravus. But it wouldn’t come out. You didn’t want to bring everything the Oracle said into question; that would only invite more problems when there were already too many for you to process.

So, instead, you said, “When I came here, years ago, I didn’t have any plans. I was in a terrible place. Ravus saved my life. He was with me every step toward becoming better, and it’s thanks to him I’m not the same person I was in the pictures and videos everyone has seen by now. The only plans I have are to support him the same way he’s always supported me.”

It was complete honesty, which you thought Ravus would appreciate. When you turned your head to look his way, you were caught off guard by another question.

“Are you referring to your drug and alcohol addictions?”

You blinked, eyes scanning the audience, but you couldn’t place the exact person who’d asked. Sylva turned to you, speaking low so that the microphones wouldn’t catch her words.

“My dear, don’t feel the need to play into such—”

“Yes,” you said, leaning forward quickly. Your mic screeched with high feedback, and you winced until it ended a moment later. “Yes, that’s what I was healed for.”

Sylva’s hand came to grasp one of yours under the table. You blinked against more flashing lights.

“Is a person with a history of mental illness fit to stand by an Oracle?” another asked, and you couldn’t believe how quick they were about the questions, diving right into a place you were far more ashamed of than your past sexual exploits.

The table shook suddenly, a fist coming down on it from Ravus’ end. “Do well to watch your words,” he said, his tone razor-sharp.

Sylva was radiating some sort of calm over you, her hand warm around yours. She reached for the fist Ravus had slammed on the tabletop, but he moved it away, scowling at the audience.

“ _No further questions,_ ” she said, rising with her hand still gripping yours.

You blocked your eyes from the onslaught of flashing from cameras, feeling held together by the warmth that the queen sent in waves by your connected hands. You felt like a little kid being led around with little say on what came next, protected from the reality of the world.

Not letting yourself sink further into the feeling of having your life and your control slip away, you pulled your hand from Sylva’s and turned back. Almost bumping into Ravus, you touched his arm with a gentle squeeze as you passed him and bent to speak into a microphone.

“ _I’m not retiring,_ ” you said, heart beginning to race in your chest. You used Tenebraen to dispel the thought that you didn’t know what had been said the whole time. “ _I’ll prove myself. I don’t expect love, but I hope you’ll respect me. Thank you for coming today and asking for an explanation directly._ ”

Righting yourself, you cleared your throat as you gazed out at the audience. Ravus took your hand, like Sylva had but without the invasion of forced calm, and led you toward the exit. His face was hard to read. You studied his profile as you followed Sylva down a corridor, deeper into the manor and away from the commotion from the conference room.

—

“I meant what I said,” you told Ravus the moment you stepped into his office. Alone with him, you felt safe to speak your mind. “I’m about to be twenty five. Pretty sure retirement age is like, sixty something.”

Ravus didn’t respond, watching you as you pushed away a few things on his desk and hopped up to sit there.

You crossed and uncrossed your arms. “I won’t do it.”

“I know.” He crossed his own arms over his broad chest.

Staring him down, you gripped the edge of his desk on either side of your legs and waited for him to say _anything._ You weren’t requesting that his mom renege on her statements or seeking permission from anyone. If no one planned to listen to you, they would be in for a pleasant surprise when your movie finished and you… kept working and taking jobs.

His arms falling to his sides, Ravus stepped toward you. You leaned into the touch of his hand when he placed it at your cheek, but kept eye contact, still waiting.

No wise reassurances came out of him. Instead, his hand went to your nape, and he was kissing you, hard and wanting. This took you by surprise, a pause before you gripped at the front of his robes, snapping the first clasp undone. Mouth moving in time with his, you invited him in with the spread of your legs. He pressed into you, an arm coming to your waist to hold you against him. When his mouth left yours to nip at your throat, you tilted your head back and spoke between panted breaths.

“Don’t avoid the conversation.”

He inhaled deeply, drawing away just enough to meet your eyes, his arm still holding you close, fingers tangled in your hair.

“What is there to say?” His words were hot at your lips. “You’ll do as you wish.”

He kissed you again, the purchase he had at your nape giving him the chance to deepen it with just the right pressure, parting your lips. Pressing further into you, he slid his other hand down your waist to rest at your thigh. It took everything you had to not melt into his touch completely. Breaking the kiss, you ignored the rush of excitement at him doing this in his office, of the growing promise of an erection he pressed against you.

“Ravus, listen.” You pulled his hand away from your thigh, not believing what you were about to say. “Stop trying to seduce me.”

He blinked, staring down at you for a moment before stepping back and gathering himself. You silently lamented the loss of him against you. He squeezed your hand, a small frown coming to his face. When he lifted your hand, he looked at the ring on your finger. “I’ll take care of it.”

Frustration beginning to build, you sighed. “That’s what you said before, but the Oracle is deciding everything for us.”

Ravus let go of your hand to card fingers through his hair, smoothing it out of his face. “She is thinking ahead, yes, but she hasn’t decreed anything as of yet.”

You recognized the truth that rang in his deep, measured voice, but it did little to comfort you. Getting down from the desk, you rubbed hands down your face and made for the door. It would be late by the time you made it back home, and you had lessons in the morning. You were stopped by large arms snaking around your waist, a hug from behind that pressed your back flush to his chest.

“Ma crevette,” he murmured into your hair. “You have to trust me.”

It wasn’t a matter of trusting Ravus. Closing your eyes, you leaned back into his hold, and tried to fight the ache in your heart at the soft insistence in his voice. The one you didn’t trust was yourself.

—

The noblewoman with the cute little gap in her teeth stared at you. Today’s roleplay had you talking politics. Because of the script you’d written, you had a lot to say for Lucian politics, but Tenebraen was still mostly unknown. You fumbled a little with the subject, as expected, but your usual partner didn’t seem very patient with it anymore.

“ _Sleeping with a member of nobility in Lucis taught you much about their policies,_ ” she said, shifting it into insulting banter, a game that wasn’t encouraged but wasn’t stopped when it occurred, either. “ _So why have you nothing to say about ours when you intend to become our queen?_ ”

Long past asserting that you were never going to be their fucking queen, you rolled your eyes and adjusted one of your gloves, being sure to put your tattoo on display.

“ _You don’t know? I slept with everyone in Lucis,_ ” you said. “ _Now I’m working my way through Tenebrae. Making sure every single citizen is satisfied is how I gather information._ ”

She blushed, and you smiled at the sight of it.

“ _Not everyone likes a dirty whore,_ ” she said, crossing her delicate arms. By the sound of the few low calls from the class around you, that was meant to be quite the witty burn. To you it felt like a blatant attack.

“ _I think I could change your tune._ ” You gave her an obvious once over. “ _Come by my place after today’s lessons, and I’ll show you what my dirty whore mouth can do._ ”

She brought a hand up to cover her light gasp. You weren’t sure if it was exaggerated, but it seemed she hadn’t expected flirtation to be your response.

“ _I would never lower myself to sleep with someone like you,_ ” she said, lowering her hand to place it at her hip.

“ _Why not_?” You circled her. “ _The prince lowers himself into me all the time._ ”

Leaning into the rumors wasn’t the best thing, you knew, but it did get you the most fun reactions. The noblewoman grew even more red, her gaze averting as if repulsed at the thought of you and Ravus being so intimate.

The teacher ended the social scene there, and you had to get down from the small platform. You followed the noblewoman, walking through the parting crowd of the class.

“ _Your insult game isn’t bad,_ ” you said. “ _Low hanging fruit—_ ”

She turned on you, pointing a finger. “ _What are you doing? Leave me alone._ ”

You stilled, looking from her finger to her face. She was glaring genuinely, and several of the other women came to her sides.

You lifted a hand and shrugged. “ _I only meant—_ ”

“ _You think your borrowed title gives you any right to be here_?” she spat, lowering her hand to cross her arms. “ _You can sleep your way into our Oracle’s bed, but you will always be Lucian trash._ ”

You’d heard this before, in whispers from the nobles who’d infested the manor during your time living there. Although annoying, it hadn’t bothered you so much back then because it hadn’t been true. Now, you’d been dumb enough to think they couldn’t possibly find you that objectionable since you’d been with Ravus for so long. But they did. They didn’t support you, and they didn’t respect you. 

It was your own fault for playing up to the rumors. She was right; you didn’t fit in. You knew that, yet you’d asked for their respect. How could anyone respect a dirty whore?

—

The sun kissed you in warm waves, contrast to the breeze brushing past. You shifted in your seat, the stone of the bench at your back uncomfortable after only an hour of lounging. The royal gardens were primarily empty, a fact that made being here rather than the private library more acceptable.

Ravus had suggested it, a small stack of books already in hand when you’d arrived for the usual quiet Saturday together.

Odd, but okay.

He kept sending you looks, long ones that lingered and didn’t stray, even when you looked up from your book.

Very odd.

 _What?_ you signed, letting the book fall to your lap.

Rather than answer, he went back to reading. His mouth pulled into a flat line, and now you were staring at him. The breeze tossed strands of his silvery hair into his eyes. Long fingers brushed it back without a thought, and you were charmed all over again.

Someone passing through the gardens bowed to you, or to Ravus more likely. You weren’t in a heavily trafficked area. This bench was surrounded by flowering bushes and the extremely worn overhanging of an old, arching trellis in a corner of the gardens not far from his personal fountain. This person had to have sought you out. Come to see the prince and his plaything.

You didn’t try forcing a smile at them —if Ravus wouldn’t, why should you?— and closed your book once they were out of sight. Resting against Ravus’ side, you took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of the flowers, of Ravus, of the magic that filled the air. As nice as the weather was, you wanted the musty smell of the old books in the library. You wanted the chill of the castle to give you a greater reason to crawl into his lap. You wanted the privacy to touch him without feeling like you’d be ostracized further for it.

He lifted an arm, draping it around you with little mind. Another deep breath in, and you closed your eyes. Sunshine warming your face, you tried to make yourself relax. It was a rest day, for Astrals’ sake. You were in what was considered one of the most calming locations in the world. By all accounts, you should’ve been beyond relaxed.

_You will always be Lucian trash._

Chewing on your lip, you opened your eyes just in time to see yet another person pass through your end of the gardens. You met their eyes, and they smiled. All you gave them was a blank stare. What were they expecting? What were they wanting?

No, you knew. They were waiting to be entertained by the spectacle of you they’d seen online. They wanted to see the old version of yourself that you’d shed after Ravus had helped you grow.

You’d been a curiosity once, for a time, back when you’d first arrived. You hadn’t blamed people for wondering about you then. You’d been loud, destructive, and attention-seeking. When the novelty had worn off, and you’d fallen into obscurity, it had been nice.

This was a magnified version of starting over at square one. All you’d wanted to do was please everyone —the Oracle, Mom, Ravus— and you’d done nothing so far but the opposite. What did _they_ want from you?

The gawker moved on, walking down the path and disappearing. You stared after them for a moment, confusion and anger swelling from a place you couldn’t understand. Turning slightly in place, Ravus pulled you closer to him. His hand at your waist squeezed gently, the book in his free hand coming to close on his lap.

You felt his breath hit your hair and slowly looked up for fear of headbutting his nose or something. His eyes were sharp as ever, aimed directly at yours. The sunlight lit him in a way that made him appear ethereal, his lashes light and his cheekbones defined. You were momentarily stricken by the fact that _Ravus_ was your fiancé. He was settling so fucking hard.

Was it even possible to give him whatever it was he wanted?

The tilt of his head was slow, his eyes shifting down to your mouth. You nodded, meeting him halfway. Pliable and direct, it was safe to say that Ravus had finally mastered how to kiss you in such a way that made you immediately weak. The book fell from your lap, thudding on the ground as you twisted in his hold to catch a grip at the chest of his robes.

You didn’t know what he wanted, ultimately, but you knew what you could give him.

As the light wind blew through the gardens, you nipped at his lips and worked at the lowest clasp of his robes with your hand. He broke the kiss when you slipped it into his robes, parting it just enough to palm at him over his pants. Eyes locked with yours, his brows rose, breaths picking up at your touch. He wasn’t hard, but you could feel the shape of it fairly easily.

With a glance down, you traced fingers over him and saw the way his hand had tightened on the book he held, his knuckles a fierce white. Smiling up at him, you kissed his jaw, relishing in the look of soft surprise on his face. Your palm slid over the length of him in slow movements meant to tease.

He didn’t stop you, his grip on both the book and your waist growing tighter. Panting between slightly parted lips, he blushed in the sunlight. It was clear he was trying to maintain his composure as he slowly grew hard underneath your hand.

You wanted to praise him for being so stoic, for letting the light dust of pink on his face be the only giveaway that you were doing anything to him. But you were just beginning, and today was made for silence.

Turning toward him a little more, you lifted your legs and rested them over his knees, blocking your hand from anyone’s view. Unless they were to seek you out specifically, no one else in the gardens would know.

Your hand left him to pull at the clasp of his belt and loosen the ties of his trousers. Delving under the waistband, your hand brushed past the tuft of hair to the silky skin of his cock. Your fingers smoothed along the length of it, coming to grip it loosely. Your eyes remained on his as you squeezed him, feeling the pulse of it at your palm.

With the sunshine warming you and the open air, your heart picked up with excitement. Voices, distant but terribly present, rang across the gardens. Squeezing, you moved your hand along his shaft, coming to rest at the head for a moment before smoothing back down to the base.

Ravus’ abs shuddered slightly against your arm, eyes darkening as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. His breathing grew heavier with each stroke, your hand coming to a steady rhythm around his cock.

The voices grew louder, footsteps resounding on the stone walkway. You grabbed the collar of his robes with your free hand and tilted your head to kiss him.  Sweet, gentle swipes of your lips against his belied the jerks of your hand that grew rougher by the second.

A light gasp from somewhere in your peripheral went ignored. Ravus’ arm at your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him. He deepened the kiss, a low moan escaping when your hand slowed. Precum on your fingers, the action became messy, and the cloth of his trousers stuck to your hand.

Breaking the kiss, Ravus looked away, toward the people nearby. You followed his gaze, meeting the curious faces of two women staring your way. The anger in you swelled deeper, a glare forming on your face. Your hand came to a stop on him for a beat; then you picked it up in full, leaning into him and returning their stare.

From where they stood, just beyond a low rosebush a short distance away, it must’ve looked like they’d caught you making out. They didn’t appear scandalized enough to have realized you held Ravus’ world in the palm of your hand. They were lingering with expectation, hoping to see what they didn’t even realize was happening right in front of them.

You licked your lips, preparing to break the silence, but Ravus startled you by beating you to it.

“ _Begone_ ,” he snapped, his expression as acidic as his voice.

The women left in a flurry of stuttered sounds and stumbling, both over each other and the stones at their feet.

Your hand stilled again in your surprise, gripping the rigid length of him tightly. You had but a moment of eye contact before his mouth was on yours again. The book he’d held fell to the ground, landing near yours. His hand, now free, came to your jaw, and he deepened the kiss.

You began to pump your hand over him again, the anger in your chest waning into something bitter, a harrowing awareness as hot on your mind as his tongue invading your mouth. Under the warm sun and in the cool breeze of this afternoon, while Ravus spilled into your hand and thanked you with kisses, both passionate and gentle, you realized all you were worth.

—

You needed a hard drink. You needed it more than oxygen, more than water, more than anything. But you knew this dance, and you weren’t going to fool yourself into drinking no matter how hard your blood and bones called for it. You’d gotten through the worst of it, staying sober while friends and family had imbibed around you in the past.

You were supposed to tell them not to do it in front of you, to not tempt you with its sight or smell. A mix of overconfidence and a desire to make this as difficult on yourself as possible had kept you silent on the matter. And it had worked, for the most part, in building up your resistance.

Immersion therapy, in a way.

As you yearned for something sharp to take the edge off your ever growing anxiety, you took the same idea and applied it to the pain you felt over everything. You were hurting yourself, but told yourself it was necessary. Just one more video. One more search on one more porn site. One last click on a link to a slideshow of your body on full display with pieces of Ignis around you. None of them were ever your last, a comb of the internet for proof of how disgusting you were.

But you _weren’t_ disgusting, you kept telling yourself. All the photos proved was how much you’d loved Ignis. You could see it on your face in the pictures, beyond the flirtatious gaze and the driving gloves being tugged off your hands by your teeth. When you’d taken the pictures, now remembering that it had been during your stay in his quarters years ago, you’d never anticipated someone called _bahanut69_ would someday comment on how they wanted to slide their dick between your boobs.

You couldn’t fight the feelings of worthlessness, passing the days in a haze of slow packing, sending Ravus short but positive messages to keep him from worrying, and trying your best not to think about the teary video call you’d had with Mom. You’d dropped the academy, finding no point in it as your hopes to hear from Ignis about his divorce grew. So far, it was the radio silence you’d asked for, but it was only a matter of time.

The videos and pictures became harder to find with each day that passed. It was a sort of self-inflicted torture staring at them until you felt sick. You watched yourself get fucked by strangers who’d secretly recorded you or one of the myriad of blowjob videos that Throbert had made, each of them recognizable by the color of the condom you’d made him wear. It had become an addicting kind of pain.

Your last Saturday before leaving for Insomnia passed without a visit to the manor. You didn’t notice because Ravus didn’t notice, so busy he was with whatever it was he was doing. You were meant to trust him with it, but how could you trust what you didn’t know? You wallowed, all packed for your trip but not mentally ready to leave the relative safety of your apartment.

Hair heavy with oil, unwashed in over a week, stuck to your sweaty skin as you trudged through your place, unplugging things in preparation for your absence. The windows had been thrown open with what felt like monumental effort to let the overly ripe smell dissipate from the place. Though not the main source of it, you knew you were a part of the problem, your body and clothes a filthy reflection of your mental state.

At least you weren’t drinking. At least you ate sometimes and slept for a few hours every day. At least you weren’t hurting yourself in a physical way that would manifest itself as proof of this low point. You knew, intellectually, that this would pass like everything else did. But it was a pit that you fed and fed until it was time for you to leave Tenebrae.

—

Getting off the train at the manor’s station on your way out of the country, you wanted to give your fiancé a proper goodbye. Not that he deserved it. He’d forgotten about you. Out of sight, out of mind, you supposed bitterly as you walked over the arching bridges and through the entrance.

You had only an hour before the train departed again and set a timer on your watch so you wouldn’t miss it and lose your luggage and train fare. Despite this, you moved through the manor slower than you meant, like molasses was weighing down your every step.

People bowed as you passed, an uncomfortable echo of “my lady” that surrounded you like lukewarm water, suffocating and unsatisfying. It was either fake or undeserved, the kindness shown by the nobility that were staffed by the palace. They had certainly never shown this much care, most of the people now regarding you having been the very same ones who wouldn’t so much as look your way before.

Not so much bleeding hearts when they encounter something too _other,_ you thought. It was disappointing, mostly, that your sexual past would be seen so negatively in a country that was free of the restrictive social norms you’d had back home.

Word of mouth led you to his office, which was odd because it was soon for tea. Entering the room without warning or announcement, you did find a teapot and matching cup sitting on a corner of his large desk that someone must’ve brought in for him. It looked untouched, the prince looking up from a stack of papers on his desk. His eyes widened, a subtle shift in his expression that had you frowning.

You shut the door behind yourself, thoughts already in turmoil. Give a man a semi-public handjob, and he forgets you. You fought the thought. It wasn’t right. He hadn’t forgotten you. He was working to stop the leak; you’d seen proof of that.

Ravus stood as you walked to his desk. The touch of surprise had left him, realization taking its place. “You leave today.”

You blinked at him. Okay. Maybe he _had_ forgotten. The twisting pain that you’d cultivated in the past weeks expanded just a bit more.

“Yeah,” you said, tensing unintentionally when he rounded his desk to pull you into a hug. You were about to leave for three months— to a place he couldn’t visit, no less, and that was all he had to say? You returned the hug, albeit weakly.

You felt exhausted even though you’d done a whole lot of nothing for the past while. You needed to get over this slump and had hoped some good news, or even just seeing Ravus, would help you. Going into this new job depressed wasn’t ideal, but you were beginning to see no way around it. Coherent thought felt all but impossible.

Stepping back out of his hold, you asked, “So… any news?” You knew he’d been dealing with the leak, but what of the expectations placed on you by the Oracle? She hadn’t met with you over anything, and you thought that had something to do, at least in part, with how the press conference had went. Ravus had said to trust him, and you did. _You did._ “Am I still retiring when I get back?”

Ravus looked down at you, silver brows meeting with a stressed pinch. “I’m amidst negotiations with the Oracle on the matter.”

The pain in your chest flared, the dull edges of your weighed down mind sharpening with anger. “Why do we have to negotiate at all? This is _our_ life, Ravus.”

“You must understand,” he said, pausing to sigh. His gaze, too intense, had you looking away, at your hands. You twisted the ring on your finger as he continued. “I am fighting long-standing traditions by contesting her wishes. Your part in the press conference hadn’t aided in gaining her amenability.”

Your frown grew. The ring on your finger suddenly felt too tight. You sent a glare down to it rather than up at Ravus. You’d expected this much. The press conference hadn’t done anything other than shift attention from your sexual past to questions over your mental health.

“You may not realize,” Ravus said, speaking before you could even bring it up. “But I am the first male Oracle in recorded history. That is already strange enough for most. My mother is attempting to make things easier on us by upholding traditions that the people hold in high regard.”

You bristled at this. Was he _really_ trying to convince you that the Oracle was looking out for you? She was just as bad, if not worse than Mom, believing her own way of thinking was best. Shouldn’t the leak have made her more willing to wait a while before you joined the family?

With a sharp look up at him, you said, “Are you even trying to argue my case? I get that there will be compromises, but I’m _not_ budging on my career.”

A frown pulled at his mouth. “I take no pleasure in protesting the Oracle, but I do it for you. Do you not trust me?”

You crossed your arms, fingernails digging into your palms. Your voice rose without intention, the coil of pain in your chest twisting tighter. “That’s not the point! I want to work, and I want to marry you when I’m ready. Don’t you?”

“I’d marry you _today_!” His words, like his eyes, were cutting. His lip had curled slightly, easing back into a frown after the outburst. “It’s understandable that you have doubts, but I haven’t a one.”

The pain became thick, heavy in your chest, and it pushed upward as if forcing your heart through your throat. You swallowed it down, repressing the feeling, although it was useless. Unable to look at him for the moment, you let your eyes roam his office, to the untouched tea on his desk and the oil painting of a landscape that hang on one of the walls.

“I don’t think…” You chewed on your lip, daring to meet his eyes as you deflated. Your arms fell, and your hands came to each other anxiously, fingers tangling together. “I don’t think I knew what I was agreeing to when I said yes.”

Between the soft blue and lilac of his eyes, the little wrinkle of irritation disappeared into shock. A beat, a bare moment passed, his mouth parting and eyes searching your face. Then it was back, the square line of his jaw as he clenched it, the furrow of his perfect brow.

“When you said yes to marrying me or to Scientia’s preposterous request?”

There it was. You’d wondered how long it would take for him to throw this in your face. It hadn’t been enough that you’d been shit on by the media and scorned by the people you’d hoped to call your peers. Or, if you were being completely honest, people you’d hoped to call friends. Because the decision you’d made had been your first attempt at integrating yourself into Ravus’ world. You were willing to make compromises, but not one single person so far, not even Ravus himself, seemed to want that to be an easy process for you.

Mom had been right. You weren’t ready to be a duchess. Not even close.

Your watch beeped, and you startled from your thoughts. Tearing your gaze away from his and looking at your watch, you sighed. “I have to go.”

When Ravus stepped forward, his hand coming to your upper arm as he leaned in to kiss you, you backed away. Again, the shock returned to his face, softer this time. The sight of it made your chest ache.

“I’ve gotta—” You threw a thumb over your shoulder. Leaving his office, you looked back but didn’t see him follow. The walk back to the station was much more rushed than the trek into the castle had been. Anxiety pricked at your skin and churned in your stomach.

Like she’d promised, the knight was waiting at the platform when you got there. With few minutes to spare, you gave her your apartment key so she could take care of the place for you during your absence.

At the first sound of the train preparing to leave, you pulled the ring from your finger. The gold too beautifully etched and the gem too bright, it didn’t suit you. Rather than feeling like a weight being lifted from you, handing the ring to the surprised knight made you feel even worse.

“Hey, wait,” she called out as you boarded the train. She followed, walking down the platform when the train slowly began to move. “My lady, why?”

“Just look after it for me,” you said, hands braced on the frame of the open doorway.

She glared at you. “Non! Take it back.” Lifting her arm, she reached the ring out to you.

Shaking your head, you looked at her but didn’t attempt to take the ring.

As if she’d been learning more than just fighting skills from Ravus, she scowled, her glare growing harder. The train picked up speed, and she began to run, yelling between breaths. “Good! Leave us! You would be a bad duchess and the _worst_ queen!”

That was the last thing anyone said to you before you were out of Tenebrae, and it rang true to you for the duration of your trip. A reminder of why this was the right choice.

—

You were given your own trailer since you were coming from out of the country. It was even smaller than your tiny apartment, something you were okay with since it meant you’d have less to worry about keeping tidy. You hoped the knight, however upset she may have been, watered your plants like she’d promised she would.

Another thing you were afforded, to your amazement, was an assistant. She was an intern, only a few years younger than you were, which made bossing her around a little uncomfortable. But she didn’t complain and had an attentive manner, a thing you’d tried and failed to have when you’d once been an assistant yourself. Remembering those days, you made an early choice to always be nice to her.

Prompto visited the set on the second day, swearing he’d bring the others only to show up alone because he didn’t want to share your time. He didn’t comment on the lack of your engagement ring, sticking to questions about the movie. The assistant, on the other hand, couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“I heard you were engaged, but you don’t wear a ring,” she said after giving you and Prompto each a milkshake— an errand you’d given her just so you could catch up with Prompto in private. She pursed her lips, eyes growing wide as if she immediately regretted the blurb.

Your chat with Prompto came to a halt, your deep dive into the unexplainable hellscape that was your mind not yet a point you’d been able to reach in the conversation. He could tell you were distressed. It was Prompto; he knew these things. Which meant he also knew when it wasn’t okay to ask.

“I am,” you said, insistent in a way that even you found odd. Your hand reached up to the hourglass that rarely left your neck. The touch of it gave you a soft shiver that you repressed. “I lose things sometimes, so I have this placeholder while I’m—” You paused, wondering why you’d felt the need to explain yourself. Backtracking, you let go of the hourglass. “Um. Thanks for helping earlier. You can go do your own thing. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

She nodded, leaving with a small blush on her face. You’d seen the textbooks in her bag earlier in the day, newer editions of the same ones you’d had to study in university. She seemed smart, so she’d likely looked you up when she’d heard who she would be interning for.

Unless she’d known about you already due to the leak. Thankfully, it appeared as if the tabloids in the Crown City had grown bored of you long before you’d come back, so there was no way to really know.

Her interruption had brought your conversation to the subject of Ravus sooner than you’d wanted. Your thoughts were still too jumbled, your feelings an even larger mess. So Prompto, understanding and perfect friend that he was, filled you in on the hot gossip instead, staying for much longer than his promised hour, much to your comfort.

When you showed him out of the trailer, you found the assistant sitting on the ground not far away, her back against a studio wall. She had a textbook in her lap and her phone in her hands. “Can I get you anything?”

You said goodbye to Prompto and went over to her, a small wave of discomfort at her immediate question. Wasn’t there somewhere else she could go to study? If you really needed something, like a coffee, you could get it yourself. “Why are you out here?”

She pointed at her book. “Reading and giving you and… that guy some privacy.”

You almost laughed at her honest response. “That was my best friend. You might see him around more. Just for my own sanity.”

She nodded. “He looks like he brings a lot of joie de vivre. I get it.”

Eyebrows arching, you laugh a little. That was _very_ true about the man, and you couldn’t have been more grateful to have him in your life. “You know Tenebraen?”

The assistant blushed a little. She was someone easily embarrassed, then. “Yes. It’s my minor.”

“Cool,” you said, distracted by the sound of thunder overhead. Looking up, you took in the overcast sky. Waving an arm, you invited her to come back into your trailer before it rained.

—

Filming didn’t start until early the next morning, and you’d been given the final copy of the script to go over in the meantime. Needless to say, you were curious about what changes had been made to your work. You spent the rest of the day delving into that and trying to awkwardly befriend your intern.

After sending her home for the day, the trailer became quiet. It was a touch scary, the silence, being the first moment you’d gotten completely to yourself to really let it sink in. You put down the script and closed a hand over the hourglass. It sang at your touch, and you let the spark of it wash over you uninhibited.

You didn’t notice when your phone began to ring, but by the third chime, you let go of the hourglass to look at the name on the screen. Your hand shook a little when picking it up, a heavy clearing of your throat that did absolutely nothing to help you before you answered.

“Why did you return the ring?”

Classic Ravus, you thought, biting the inside of your cheek. He got right to the point. It was one of the things you loved about him.

“I need time to think,” you said, trying for pure honesty. That always seemed the best route with Ravus. “You told me to trust you, so you need to trust me, too.”

He sighed. “I refuse to play games. You’ve gone to a place I cannot follow. Am I to believe…” He went quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded strained. “Am I to believe you’ve left me?”

Rubbing a hand down your face, you were glad that, this time, Ravus had half a mind to call before storming after you. “I’m here for a _job._ It’s just my luck that it brought me here. At least I’m closer to Ignis so I can give his title back as soon as—”

“I don’t give a damn about the fate of his title,” Ravus snapped. “I want to know if you plan to come home.”

“I don’t know!” You glared at nothing, irritation spiking at his interruption. “I need a break, Ravus. I need to take a step back from… everything. Please, let me do that.”

You heard a quiet exhale through the line. Then, as if the fight had left him, he said, “Understood.” It was curt, and you could picture clearly the way he was probably clenching his jaw.

You wanted to tell him you loved him and that the sound of his voice was making your heart race despite everything. But he’d already hung up.

—

You ran fingers through your hair, bending forward to get the help of gravity in making it fall into a more comfortable hold as you put it up. With it out of your face, focusing was easier. You poured over more pages of the script —two thirds of the way through now— and took note of the changes that the assistant writers had made. Some were good, great even, but other things annoyed you immensely.

Highlighting a terrible line they had added, you scoffed to yourself. You were going to have words about this. With a sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes. The words of the script flashed underneath your eyelids. That was a clear sign that you should give yourself a break.

It was very late now, nearly four in the morning. Hair and makeup would arrive within an hour at least, as well as the actors who needed it. Your assistant would be at your door by seven. Maybe if you tried to sleep soon—

A knock at the trailer door brought your thoughts to a stop. Rising from your spot at the cluttered little table in the mini kitchen, you went to the window and peeked through the blinds. The lights in your trailer were dimmed, but it would be clear to all that you were awake, so you didn’t even try to be inconspicuous about looking at your visitor before considering letting them in.

You had no idea who the hell was at your door. A man, standing in the outdoor lighting from the surrounding soundstages, knocked again and scratched at the scruff on his jaw. When his gaze went to the window, you let the blinds fall closed. He didn’t knock again, but was still waiting at the door when you approached it with a broom —the closest _kind of_ sword-like weapon available— several minutes later.

“Please, I only need to make a call,” the man said, leaning down a little to meet your eyes when you peeked through the curtain of the window on the door.

Oh, he was a murderer. You were completely sure of that now. That was a classic excuse if you’d ever heard one.

“I just got to the city,” he said before yawning heavily. “My trailer is locked. I need to call my manager, but my phone is dead. Your place is the only one with the lights on.”

Against your better judgement, you opened the door to him. Warily, you paced the length of your space and watched him as he made the call. He seemed legitimate after what sounded like a rough conversation with his manager about not leaving a key for him to get into his trailer.

Then, when he gave your phone back and introduced himself, you realized he was one of the lead actors for the film, portraying a younger version of King Regis. Feeling dumb for being so suspicious, you offered him something to drink and let him wait in your trailer for his manager to arrive and let him into his own place.

“So why are you up at this hour?” He sat at the table with a nod at the wrinkled script. “Going over your lines?”

You finished preparing the coffee to brew, clapping your hands together when turning to face him. “I’m going over all of it.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Thorough, huh? Whatever gets you into the role.”

You leaned back against the counter, the place slowly beginning to fill with the robust smell of Ebony. He thought you were an actress. How funny.

“What do you think of the script?” you asked, tucking back a strand of hair that had escaped the tie that held the rest back.

He rolled a shrug over his shoulders. “One of the better ones I’ve read. There’s a scene halfway through, some homoerotic bit between Regis and his Shield that should fun to shoot.”

You grinned tiredly. That part hadn’t been in the book, and you’d thought it would get cut. The fact that it didn’t made you feel good about the bits that you’d added to the movie that weren’t in the original telling. Some people were going to hate it, but you were most excited for Noctis and Gladio’s reactions once they saw the movie above anything else.

Were you a terrible friend who took joy in the discomfort of others? Definitely, maybe.

“What about you?” the actor asked, drawing you from your thoughts. “What part do you play?”

You turned around to pour the coffee into two separate mugs. Sleep wasn’t coming, you were beginning to realize. By the time this guy left, you’d have to get started on your day anyway. “I’m the screenwriter.”

You spent the better part of an hour with him, talking about the movie and trying not to fall asleep. He shotgunned the coffee like it was espresso, and you did the same, making more before his manager finally showed up. When you were alone again, coffee bitter on your breath and mind alert with the abundance of caffeine, you went back to the table to pick up your phone.

Nothing new from Ravus. You looked at the screen dolefully, staring at the last message he’d sent just a week before.

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Thinking of you. x_

Was that still true? You pulled at the string of messages, refreshing it pointlessly. Except, a little bubble of flashing ellipses appeared. You blinked, bringing the phone closer to your face. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone. You swiped your finger up and down the screen, then sighed when it didn’t come back.

You were tired. Ravus wasn’t thinking of you, and you didn’t blame him. All you’d brought him was trouble ever since the engagement had begun; really, you were doing both him and yourself a favor by creating this distance. You needed to focus on work, and he needed to sort things out with the Oracle. Hopefully it would land in your favor, and if it didn’t, you would deal with that when you got there.

Rubbing at your eyes, you swallowed down the need to cry. You weren’t going to do that. It solved nothing. Your phone beeped in your hand, and your eyes snapped open, heart attempting to choke its way out of you because _yes, Ravus was thinking about—_

 **_Ignis:_ ** _Could we meet this week? I need your signature. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important._

Disappointment bit at you, and you frowned at the message for a long moment.

 **_You:_ ** _Not even a “welcome back”?_

 **_Ignis:_ ** _I was under the impression you didn’t wish to hear from me._

 **_You:_ ** _I’m past it. Let’s meet for lunch, and I’ll sign whatever._

 **_Ignis:_ ** _Thank you._

 **_Ignis:_ ** _Welcome back, by the way._

You spent the next couple of hours pouring over the rest of the script, the arrival of your assistant indicating the beginning of your actual day. She’d brought more coffee, which you didn’t need but downed anyway as you prepared to meet with the other writers.

If you thought of Ravus, it was fleeting and repressed. You had to focus, you told yourself. He wasn’t thinking about you, just like he hadn’t thought about you the entire week following your dalliance in the gardens. You knew your worth; perhaps Ravus had finally realized it, too.

—

The forms Ignis needed you to sign were boring, new tax mandates or something. You hadn’t found the time to meet with him anywhere off the lot so he came halfway through the week, bringing a briefcase full of paperwork and lunch for you both.

His quick gaze kept skimming the interior of your little trailer as you went over the documents. You were waiting for him to say anything about how messy you’d gotten such a small space in so short an amount of time. It was a natural skill. Clutter just cropped up from seemingly nothing when you were busy and depressed.

“What’s this one for?” you asked, pointing at the next thing. It was stapled together, at least half an inch thick.

Ignis leaned forward a little to look at it. “Ah, that one. A clinic has opened in the district. It’s for standard health regulations.”

You nodded, glad for the simple answer, though you knew he probably had a lot more to say about it. Signing the right places, you ignored both the feel of his gaze boring into you and the burning need you had to check your phone. You were a woman obsessed, always looking for any kind of word from Ravus. It showed in your constant movement, be it the tap of your foot or the unending job tasks you gave yourself.

“Are you alright?” Ignis asked, disrupting the quiet.

Your scribbling stopped, and you looked up to meet his eyes. The green of them was a comfort, brimming with concern and void of the judgement you’d come to expect from others.

No, you weren’t alright. You were so far from alright that _alright_ was a grainy speck in the distance, the existence of which grew harder to conceive of with each passing hour. You didn’t regret coming to Insomnia or giving the ring back to Ravus. You didn’t regret sticking to your guns. But you did, very much, wish you’d reminded Ravus that you loved him before you’d left.

You loved him, and that’s really all that should’ve mattered. But it wasn’t all that mattered because this was the real world, and no one got by on love alone. Instead of rambling about this to Ignis, you shook your head, only a slight movement, then went back to scrawling your signature on everything.

“The divorce… should be complete soon,” he said, his voice lower but firmer. “I’m sorry it hasn’t been as unobtrusive as I’d hoped.”

You kept signing, going through the documents with a nod of your head to let him know you’d heard. It was so like him to think that’s what was wrong. His reassurance and apology went over you like water off a chocobo’s back. You were beginning to think it didn’t matter how soon you could give Ignis his nobility back. The damage had been done.

A knock at the door broke your concentration, and you looked that way for a moment, rolling the joint of your wrist. Ignis got up to answer it as you kept writing your name, the lines getting worse with every iteration. Your hand was really beginning to hurt.

“Oh, hey, it looks like you already had lunch. Bummer.”

You looked up again to see the Lead Actor stepping inside with two meals from craft services in his hands. You’d run into him at least once every day, each time listening to whatever nonsense he felt like sharing before he asked you a question about yourself. Then he was off, getting ready to film on the backlot. Your acquaintanceship hadn’t reached the level of _bring lunch and chat_ yet, or so you’d thought.

He smiled at you, then looked over his shoulder. “Are you the fiancé she mentioned?”

Ignis frowned as he shut the door. “No.”

Lead Actor shrugged, placing the containers of food on the table before taking Ignis’ seat. “Cool. Didn’t want to interrupt a romantic moment by worming my way in here like I did that first night we met.”

You smiled in spite of your depression. This guy didn’t care to read the room. He just walked in and did what he wanted, typical entitled actor behavior.

Ignis crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t discredit your ability to worm, as you say.”

Lead Actor looked at you, eyebrows arching up his forehead. He was still in his young King Regis makeup, but had changed out of costume. It was weird enough that you smiled wider.

“I like your other friend more, the blond guy,” Lead Actor said, opening one of the takeout boxes.

You pointed at the remaining chair for Ignis to sit down in. He frowned at the actor as he took the seat, visibly displeased by the addition to the table. You weren’t going to complain, though. This was the kind of bullshit you needed to get your mind off of things.

—

 **_Luna:_ ** _I’m so sorry._

It had been a simple but ominous text. One that you’d seen early one afternoon on the fourth week of filming. You were elbow deep in the trenches of writing and rewriting. Things were being added and taken out. Your script was being ripped apart and reassembled because it was still early enough in production to make these changes.

So this bit of foreboding was unwelcome in your hectic life.

You didn’t have time to respond to her, and in the end, you never did. It was sent from Prompto without any commentary, a link to an online article in a Tenebraen newspaper. _Oracle Calls Off Engagement_ read in large letters at the heading. You skimmed it, a sick feeling overcoming you. Sylva had retracted her blessing, citing that you and Ravus were ill-suited for one another.

The article mentioned that Ravus declined to comment on the matter. Then it went through reasons why this breakup had been all sorts of predicable. It had come out just hours before, in time for the earliest morning crowd in Tenebrae to read all about it on the other side of the planet.

“Is that the peanut gallery?” Lead Actor asked, drawing your attention up from your phone.

You locked your phone and put it away, feeling tears well in your eyes. Peanut gallery meant Ignis, and while the unwanted nickname for the advisor usually made you at least smile, you felt like you were going to fall apart right there in your trailer. Gripping the paper copy of the script, excessively worn and dogeared by this point, you tried to will away the tears. They fell regardless, spilling over as your chin wavered.

“Hey,” he said, his amusement dying. “What’s wrong?”

“I think,” you said, pausing to clear your throat because your voice was already breaking. “I think I was dumped.”

He was blurry in your vision, but you could see the vague shape of him dig into his pockets for something. Your cheeks were wet, your throat was thick, and a searing pain ripped through your chest. The last thing you’d expected was for the engagement to _just end._ The worst case scenario, in your mind, had involved you and Ravus eloping so that you could, at the very least, have done the wedding on your own terms.

For Ravus to not even argue or say anything… He’d been silent for the entire month you’d been gone so far. That was expected since you’d asked for space, but you had thought he was still negotiating for you to continue your career. In the worst way, you’d gotten what you wanted.

Another wave of tears overcame you, your breath hitching. You tossed the script aside, rubbing at your eyes and watching the Lead Actor put several things on the table. You recognized the array drugs he’d brought out and felt the alarms begin to blare in your mind.

“When I’m really stressed,” he said, picking up a bottle of unmarked pills. “I get high. Have you ever tried any of these?”

You’d done them all, and you knew from experience that it wasn’t going to help. Still, it took nothing to swallow a couple and leave your trailer to continue your work day with a bounce in your step. It kept you from crying. You couldn’t cry if you kept yourself busy, and damn could you keep busy with this level of high coursing through you. Sweat on your face, your voice coming out a bit too loud, and your mind racing, you were one of the last to leave set.

Walking through the studio toward your place nestled between soundstages, you found Ignis standing by the entrance. He had a box of takeout in hand and worry in his expression. You stopped a few feet away, the drugs drained from your system.

He held up the box. “Prompto was meant to come, but he—”

“He had a sudden assignment,” you finished, nodding because you already knew. Prompto had apologized for it earlier. You’d told him, in all capital letters, that it was REALLY OKAY I’M TOTALLY FINE. Apparently, that had done nothing to convince him if Ignis had come in his stead.

You walked past him and up the steps to unlock the door. He seemed hesitant to come in, which was silly. He’d visited plenty of times already. Your trailer was the prime spot for him to get into sassy conversations with the Actor every other day. Those moments were, admittedly, one of the few things that gave you joy anymore.

You attempted to swallow down the bitter taste of the pills you’d taken earlier, but it was still heavy on your tongue. Shouldn’t have taken them, you mentally reprimanded yourself, turning on the sink to gulp directly from the tap. You felt like you were a moment away from shriveling up, sweat prickling at your brow and down your back.

Wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt, you looked at Ignis who’d set the food on the table but hadn’t sat down himself. His face was its usual mask of seriousness, the lines of worry between his furrowed brows letting you know he was ill at ease. You took him in, eyes following the neatly pressed lines of his Crownsguard attire. You wondered if the driving gloves on his hands were the same ones you’d posed with in the nudes.

“My divorce has been finalized,” he said, an attempt to get your mind off of the fact that you had no idea where you stood with Ravus anymore. You weren’t stupid; that’s exactly why he was there. The news was good to hear, though. Now you could give him the title.

You stepped toward him. “You’re free.”

Ignis looked down at you, his eyes widening when your hands came to the open lapel of his jacket. “I am.”

You needed something more, a better distraction. Thumbs brushing the fine fabric between your fingers, you drew close to him. His body was warm in the unheated space, and you were pleased when you could see him visibly swallow at your closeness. His hands came to your sides, grasping lightly.

Smiling softly up at him, you asked, “Why don’t we celebrate?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full transparency, I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to update for a while. I’m going through a major job change irl and might need to get settled before I can write again. Rest assured, it will get finished! If you want to share any thoughts at all, I’m dying to hear them.
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always <3


	9. Are you nervous in the service?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to Elathepenn for listening to my stressed and depressed ramblings concerning this chapter and life in general.
> 
>  **Heads up** to dispel confusion: This chapter is split up between Ravus' point of view, told in snapshots throughout the period of a day, and reader's point of view, which picks up from the previous chapter.

Never in his thirty three years had Ravus ever felt this elated. It was… unusual for him. Surrounded as he was by Regis’ men, he still found himself drawn to looking out the nearest window of the armored SUV in a slight daze. His silence was read as anger by the Glaives. Unsurprising. He preferred it that way. None of them spoke, not even the one who suffered the jab of the sheathed sword laying across his lap with each bump of the ride on the way to the Citadel.

No, that wasn’t entirely true.

The leader, who was at the wheel, looked at Ravus through the rearview mirror. “So you’re sweet on a Lucian girl, your highness?”

The Glaive was smiling, and Ravus hated it. The insolence was expected but no less appalling. Ravus was in too good a mood to be bothered with it today.

“Yes,” the prince said sharply. “We’re to be married.”

It came out without a thought, and Ravus grit his teeth at the unbidden announcement. He was absolutely out of control right now. Why was he overcome with the desire to tell everyone the news? It was his personal business; what should he care that a few of Regis’ men were now glancing at him curiously?

He needed to correct this.

“Shocking that Regis would order an attack within the Wall,” he said to divert the topic.

The Glaive met his eyes in the mirror. “Maybe it wasn’t so much an attack mission, I s’pose. The Wall’s never been breached like that so we were ready for anything.”

Ravus didn’t attempt to carry the conversation, returning his attention to the fields of nothing that sprawled around them. The only thing that let him know they were actually getting anywhere was the city on the horizon and a lone roadside ice cream stand they’d passed five minutes prior.

“What were all those flowers for? There had to be hundreds.”

Fighting a sigh, Ravus sent a dead stare to the Glaive through his reflection in the mirror. “One for each man I’ve slain for not knowing when to cease bothering me.”

When the Glaive’s attention returned to the road, his thumbs idly tapping the steering wheel in an irritating display of relaxation, Ravus looked out the window, relieved to be left with his thoughts.

—

Ravus let the Glaives lead him up the grand staircase at the main entrance, looking for all the world like a criminal. No grand explanation was coming to him. No viable excuse for his hasty decision to cross borders with a military vessel came to him at all.

His mind was too full of her. Which was precisely how he had gotten into this situation in the first place.

On his way to have audience with King Regis, the thought of her potentially contacting him crossed his mind. With a casualness that was perhaps inconsiderate in this situation, he procured his phone from a pocket just outside the throne room. No message from her, but…

 **_Argentum:_ ** _omg u proposed?? Congratz dude i cant bleve u rlly went 4 it_

Ravus stared at the infuriating string of text, then shoved his phone back into his pocket. He’d made the mistake of answering that fool’s message _once_ and had been paying for it ever since. Prompto thought them friends, which was completely absurd and not at all Ravus’ problem.

He didn’t let himself wonder when he’d begun to refer to Prompto by first name. Mentally, at least. For all of his obnoxious cheer, Ravus did find him the easiest of her friends to accept. The dolt of a prince had never been his fan; why change something that was perfectly mutual? Amicitia had respect but little else to offer, and Scientia was a potential problem. So, truly, he should’ve felt grateful that Prompto wished to befriend him without her knowledge.

All Ravus felt about it, though, was a deep wish to return to a time in which Prompto had feared him. His phone, and therefore his day, had been so much less beleaguered by nonsensical messages that could’ve been better typed by an illiterate.

Ravus’ straying thoughts were halted when he was shown in to see King Regis. Hearing the usual announcement of his title upon entering, he walked down the marble hall toward the staircase with an almost impatient stride.

No, not almost. He _was_ impatient.

Her mother was ill; he had no time to waste. He had to prove himself to her mother because she was to be his wife. She was— His beloved was to be his wife, not her mother. Six, when had his mind become such an unfettered mess? This was what she did to him. He had been a calm body of water before he’d met her. Perfectly content. What recourse was there for him now? She wasn’t even _here,_ yet he was struggling to focus.

Elation sat heavy in his heart still.

Ravus stopped at the foot of the staircase and looked up at Regis, ridding himself of the thoughts that plagued him by sheer will. He was the crown prince of Tenebrae. He had the utmost control of himself at all times and considered himself nothing if not controlled and completely honest.

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing slightly in reverence.

Regis didn’t respond immediately, and when Ravus stood tall, squaring his shoulders, the king’s gaze stretched for another beat.

“Prince Ravus,” he said, clasping his hands in front of himself. “You take advantage of our allegiance by crossing borders unannounced?”

This wasn’t the response he’d expected. Regis had learned in recent years not to waste time on dallying pleasantries with Ravus, however formal they were meant to greet one another, but this was an outright pointed finger. He wasn’t even easing into the blame for the sake of politeness.

“Indeed.” Ravus let the familiar seriousness take hold of him. That was a comfortable place. “My actions bore no ill will.”

Regis looked down at him. Possible, given the nature of this call to his throne, that he also looked down _on_ Ravus. One of the few that Ravus had to accept treating him as such without giving them a deserved scowl.

“So it seems,” the king said, his hands coming apart to rest at the sides of his grand seat. “Lady Lunafreya informed me of it being an act of passion.”

Ravus did his best to not visibly start. How had his sister known? He’d only just proposed, and he’d almost gotten away with not admitting the grand gesture was a proposal at all.

“If that’s so, my coming here has been a waste of time.” It wasn’t that he was allowing himself to blush; his body wasn’t listening. It crept upon him like an illness, burning at his skin.

“You don’t deny it being a somewhat juvenile act.” Regis kept a steady gaze.

How Ravus hated this. Face flush in front of the King of Lucis, heart light from her answer, sword arm still itching to take a life. If he had to endure this for much longer, he was inclined to take his own.

“There is nothing to deny,” he said, eyes shifting as others began to file into the throne room. Luna, following her husband, smiled at Ravus and took place nearby at the lowest step of the staircase.

“You realize this cannot go overlooked,” Regis said, regaining Ravus’ attention.

This was utterly absurd. The council members who stood in audience nodded along with Regis’ statement. Ravus fought an eye roll. Such a crass display of power was wholly unnecessary, but if Regis was one thing that Ravus was glad not to be, it was a good politician. No room for unbridled honesty.

Being given a so-called punishment of a ban from Insomnia —how terrible, woe was he— for the remainder of the year, Ravus left the throne room within less than an hour with his sister on his heel.

“The negotiations went in your favor considering how little you visit as it is.”

Lunafreya was in full form. Guilt, an overall unfamiliar feeling, budded within, and Ravus slowed in the long corridor to look at her. Her smile was soft, her eyes knowing; Ravus regretted almost falling for the remark. Whatever annoyance she had about his disregard for ever visiting her was currently taking a backseat to how excited she must’ve been over the proposal. Ravus didn’t want to talk about it. Not with his brother in law walking only paces behind.

“How did you know?”

Luna had the grace to look away when the wide smile came to her face. “She sent me a photo of the sylleblossoms.”

“I wasn’t aware you two kept in touch with one another.”

She shrugged, returning her gaze to Ravus. He could _feel_ her excitement coming from her, could see it in the corner of his eye.

“We speak of you, mostly,” she said. “Idle gossip and such.”

Ravus wouldn’t take this bait. He kept his stride steady, heading to the main level with purpose. When Luna didn’t say anything, her husband catching up to even strides with them, Ravus had to bite his tongue.

Rounding a corner had him coming face to face with the prince’s advisor, and had they not both exceptional reflexes, he was certain he would’ve knocked the other man’s spectacles clear off his face. Seemed as if Ravus wasn’t the only one in a hurry.

“Noctis, Lady Lunafreya,” he said, tilting his head in a small bow. “It appears I’m late.”

“Just in time, actually,” Luna’s husband spoke up. “We’re about to head out to the west to see where the invasion happened.”

The advisor blinked, shooting a confused glance to Ravus. “I’d been informed it was a false alarm but little else.”

It struck Ravus then that Scientia didn’t know. For whatever meaningless reason that he’d been late, no one had yet to tell him. The gods, in their mysterious way, did grant Ravus small gifts such as this, but, as he considered just how he would tell the advisor, he thought it best that he didn’t. Gloating wasn’t a good look for an Oracle.

If his sister and the others were indeed coming back with him to his paramour —which was news to him— it would be best to let the scene speak for itself. Ravus had brought more than enough sylleblossoms, should any of them have wilted in transit. The sea of blue he’d left on her mother’s lawn would say enough.

“It was… something like that,” the younger prince said, scratching his neck. “Cancel your meetings and come with. You know she lives over there, and her mom’s sick.”

Ravus kept himself from nodding in agreement. He was becoming impatient. He hadn’t traveled across the ocean to stand in a corridor with these people, and Regis had only given him twenty four hours to leave the confines of the Wall.

The advisor adjusted his glasses with a gloved finger. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Come off it, Scientia,” Ravus found himself biting out. “The prince needs his royal nanny.”

Tiring of the exchange, Ravus continued on through the hall. Scientia _had_ to come. How else was Ravus going to be able to silently gloat? That and… Ravus knew it would make her happy. She’d nurtured a friendship with the advisor, and he could never fault her for having the heart to forgive and grow.

It wasn’t the view of his proposal flowers or the display of her blessed hourglass that clued Scientia in on the news. Ravus couldn’t find himself horribly surprised when, converging with Amicitia and Prompto not minutes later, the blond man loudly congratulated him. As if his awful text message hadn’t been enough.

“Dude— I mean, Lord Ravus,” he said, his smile wide. “I _never_ woulda guessed that’s why you needed to know where she was. I just thought she wasn’t answering your calls or something ‘cause she was stressed.”

Ravus gave no reaction, verbally nor by expression, which was enough reason for Prompto to think it was okay to continue.

“Totally rad, though.” Prompto rose a hand that Ravus merely looked at. He lowered it awkwardly with a chuckle, an attempt at playing it cool. “Luna and I called it after the Niflheim thing. How’d you ask her?”

This, Ravus felt compelled to answer, strikingly aware of the eyes that were on him. “A traditional Tenebraen proposal. Sylleblossoms.”

The advisor visibly tensed, and Ravus sent a very unsubtle glance his way, feeling less satisfied by this than he thought he would. Perhaps it wasn’t in him to enjoy the pain in others. How disappointing.

Within an instant, Scientia relaxed and, to Ravus’ displeasure, spoke up. “If that is true, I would require a word with you.”

Ravus met his eyes and found nothing but calm. Was he attempting to stall him from seeing her? That would accomplish nothing. Surely, Scientia must know that.

“Iggy,” Prompto said, breaking into the conversation before Ravus could utter a word. Which was fine. Ravus didn’t particularly want to have a chat with Scientia. “Iggy, why don’t—”

“Mind your own, Prompto,” the advisor said, eyes not leaving Ravus’.

Ah. Was it a fight he wanted, then? That was something Ravus would gladly give him. He touched the hilt of his sword, inviting the bespectacled man to only say the word. Looking at the sword, a frown came to Scientia’s face.

“It’s but a short meeting,” he said. “I’m in the Foreign Affairs Council; I’ve pertinent information to share with you.”

He was grasping, and _this_ Ravus did enjoy.

“Certainly. Keep it brief, Scientia, I’ve someone awaiting my return.”

Again, the other man tensed. “My office isn’t far.”

Ravus was slightly disappointed at receiving no promise of a fight, but it was better that way. He truly didn’t have time to spare. Following the younger man, he kept half a step behind and ignored the small burst of chatter from the others when they’d thought he and Scientia too far to hear them.

The walk was, as promised, fairly short, but it lent Ravus enough time to ponder over the man next to him. Prior to everything, prior to _her,_ he’d considered the advisor one of the more bearable Lucian contacts he’d had to contend with. He’d seen him at festivals, gatherings, and political events, nothing but nods passing between them. The perfect acquaintanceship.

With his fine dress and manner, Ravus wasn’t terribly surprised at his love’s attraction to the man. Objectively, there was little to complain about. But that could’ve been said of most people Ravus personally cared to let around him. Aranea had always been beautiful. Even Prompto had a boyish charm about him that Ravus would go to his grave never voicing.

As an individual who’d never considered romance, let alone sexual relations, before meeting his beloved, Ravus had found it easy to analyze anyone objectively, and the man leading him through a den of secretaries to a private office was one person Ravus had privately compared himself to more times than he cared to acknowledge.

For all the partners she’d had in the past, he —Ignis, because he _did_ have a name— had been the only one she’d loved, and to Ravus, that meant everything.

Ignis closed the door as Ravus stood in the middle of the office. A large window with a view of the city took up much of an entire wall. Ravus tore his eyes from it when Ignis cleared his throat.

Out with it, Ravus thought. Show the display of jealousy, reveal the unreasonable man that had manifested in bitterness, the one that had lost all shred of Ravus’ respect.

Instead, Ignis delved into files behind his desk, grabbing one of them and flipping it open. “There’s no precedent for foreign royalty marrying a common citizen.”

Ravus frowned at him. “I haven’t come here to state the obvious with you. What do you need of me to make this as easy on her as possible?”

The advisor placed the file on his desk but didn’t sit. His eyes fell to Ravus’ sword again, the briefest glimpse that had Ravus squaring his shoulders.

“You’ve no intention to make this easy,” Ravus said, voicing his thoughts as they came. “You’ve already lost, but I’m not opposed to fighting you.”

“That much is obvious,” he interjected with another pointed look at the sword. “But I’ve no interest in dueling. It would make a mockery of the friendship I’ve regained with her.”

That was unexpected. Ravus’ expression eased unintentionally, though he couldn’t help feeling wary at the open admittance. Ignis was a strategist; he wouldn’t say anything without reason. Only, after scrutinizing the other man, Ravus realized this was only the bare truth. If something were to happen between their already tenuous friendship, Ignis wouldn’t get another chance. She’d been hurt and confused too many times.

“Rather than waste time being maudlin,” Ignis continued, taking a document from the file and flipping through it. “I would like to offer an olive branch of sorts.”

He held the document out, and Ravus took it with mild confusion. Thoroughly detailed and outlined, it was a caveat on unions between Lucians and those of other nations. Ravus skimmed it, a brow rising. “Do you not have regulations for international marriages in this modern age?”

“As I said,” Ignis went on, taking the document from him. “Not when involving class difference. This is an amendment to what already rests. I’ll have it passed before the council attempts to leverage the marriage against you in some way.”

Ravus watched him close the file and put it away. “You had that prepared in advance.”

With a hum, Ignis nodded. “It seemed only a matter of time.”

“Why go through such trouble?” Ravus wasn’t sure why he asked. He knew why.

Ignis averted his gaze, green eyes moving to the window. “I wish for nothing more than her happiness.”

Ravus stared at him. This was something they had in common. He felt his heart clench at the thought. It was a good pain because it meant he hadn’t been wrong to compare himself to this former lover of hers. He was in… acceptable company.

“We should return to the others,” he said, nodding toward the door. They had wasted more than enough time. He wanted to see her and hold her before he was forced out of this blasted place.

“I won’t be going,” Ignis said, finally taking a seat at his desk.

“She’d want to see you,” Ravus stated plainly, watching Ignis straighten a framed photo placed next to his monitor.

“Have a show of mercy, your highness.” Ignis frowned at the picture, then looked up at him. “She may be ready, but I am not.”

Curious, Ravus picked up the photo, expecting a scene of friendship with one of the others. He was met with a posed shot of Ignis and his wife. Like the oil paintings in the manor only far worse for how the unhappiness on their faces looked too real.

“That isn’t an easily given request, Scientia.” He put the photo back, placing it face down on the desk. Disrespectful, sure, but he was making a point. “When you don’t show yourself mercy.”

It was Ignis’ turn to stare, but Ravus was already going to the door. If he wasn’t going to come, so be it. Had he ever cared less about something? Probably not.

—

Only Luna and Prompto accompanied him on the return trip. Amicitia had something important to do with the prince, and his sister’s life was so undervalued that Prompto was deemed a suitable guard for her. Ravus tried not to think on this overlong. Which was easy because there didn’t seem to be a break in the number of questions the younger man had for him.

The only time Ravus spoke on the ride back to her mother’s was to explain to the overly curious Prompto that the magic surrounding the manor sustained the sylleblossoms all year, and that it wasn’t uncommon for the more traditional citizens to visit the field to gather a few for someone special. Not one thousand. Not even one hundred in this day and age.

Ravus would’ve given her every single one if that’s what it would’ve taken.

He cut that thought off, frowning deeper at himself. Getting ahold of himself had to become top priority, and by the time they reached their destination, he felt like he’d succeeded.

She and her mother had fed his guards while he’d been away. All of the flowers had been moved into the little house, for whatever reason, and she’d taken care of his men. They shouldn’t have left their places near the dropship. They were highly trained combatants, yet they’d succumbed to whatever bribery she’d pressed upon them in his absence. Ravus sent them home, passing on the clearance code the Marshal had given him in the throne room to ease them past the Wall.

Returning to the house after making sure his men were long in the distance, Ravus peered about the vast blue that filled the space. The elation, thought to be suppressed, reignited at the sight of her. Rational thought would’ve had him on the dropship with the others, lest he miss the twenty four hour window.

By all accounts, he shouldn’t have been so happy to be this reckless. He’d never had a reason to be without sense and had no intention of letting it get the best of him. He was remaining behind for one very important thing.

And there she was, his future wife, telling a crude joke to his sister, rude hand gestures and all. Luna laughed behind a delicately placed hand, and his love looked all too pleased to have entertained.

“Must you?” Ravus spoke up to catch her attention.

The way she grew alight, her eyes slightly widening and the corners of her mouth drawing up into a playful smile at the sight of him— it made him weak. Had he thought of himself as a calm body of water? No. He was a storm, fervent and frightening and uncontrollable. His thoughts, in her presence, stretched into abstract monstrosities of affection. It disrupted the brusque nature of his existence.

 _She_ disrupted the nature of his existence.

“Papa-gateau,” she said, walking past Luna and Prompto toward him.

There it was, that name. Once a joke at his expense, it made him now wish it were true, in any form. Did she have any idea of its full meaning? He didn’t think so. If she did, she wouldn’t have kept saying it.

She grabbed at his robes —how irritating that had once been— and grinned. Ravus felt light and incredibly warm, and fought to maintain his sense.

“Hello, fiancé,” she said, her eyes scanning his face. “Why’d you send your guys away? It’s time for dessert.”

Ravus wished he could send everyone away. With the way her hands pressed at his chest, her body close to his, and the sparkle in her eyes —she was just as elated— he wanted nothing more in this very moment than to make a dessert of _her._

Resisting this inappropriate urge, he leaned down to kiss her once— just once. “I’ve only a day to be with you. Where is your mother?”

She tried for another kiss, absolutely no respect for the others in the room, but he held her at bay with a hand to her cheek. He _needed_ to retain his common sense and proper decency or he’d get nothing done.

—

Her mother was much like her —or was it the other way around?— in that she wasn’t receptive to any help Ravus offered at first. He was no doctor, and an internal issue of the heart was far beyond his scope of understanding. So he did what he could while she passed time with Luna and Prompto.

It was surreal. Surrounded by blue, listening to the chattering of the others, Ravus let his magic wash over her mother. He held one of her hands and every time she squeezed his fingers, he met her eyes. A vague, underlying sense of discomfort was there.

It wasn’t uncommon for people, especially from those who weren’t from Tenebrae, to be uncomfortable with his treatment. The only universal constant was children. They were purely unafraid of him, which was fortunate for his work and unfortunate for his own comfort levels.

This felt different, though. Her mother squeezed his hand again, and he looked up to the eyes that were so much like hers. She appeared bothered, saddened by something that he could plainly read on her face. That should’ve been a worry to him, but nothing was dampening his spirits.

Tomorrow, he would silently fret over the woman’s hesitation of his union with her daughter. Today, he would help, heal, and let himself be happy.

—

Unsurprising that her mother would be the sort of old fashioned that would make him sleep in the guest room downstairs. Ravus was okay with that. He’d gotten a glimpse of her childhood bedroom; her bed wouldn’t fit him alone, much less the both of them.

In the quiet of the evening, he disrobed to his barest undergarments and lay himself on the guest bed above the blankets. The place had an odd smell, and it was far too warm for his liking, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The tingle of her goodnight kiss was still fresh on his lips. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

The potpourri on the dresser was rather… pungent.

Opening his eyes, he got up and unlocked the window. Not a moment after pushing the creaky thing open, he heard a whisper.

“Psst, hey.”

He blinked, looking out at the moonlit lawn and hearing nothing for a moment but the crickets and the wind tousling the wheat. The silence didn’t make him feel unsafe. He trusted his instincts when they told him it was only his love and her usual nonsense afoot.

As if on cue, she crept into view, biting her lip to hold back a laugh and resting her hands on the windowsill. “Papa-gâteau, gonna invite me in?”

He couldn’t find himself surprised, but had to ask, “How did you get out there?” He’d only just parted with her at the foot of the staircase in the hallway. She’d been especially cheeky going up, shooting him with finger guns and nearly tumbling down. He hadn’t seen her in this great a mood in a long time.

She shrugged. “I climbed out of my window, over the roof, and down the trellis at the back of the house.”

It was said as if it were the most common sense answer. Ravus rose a brow, wondering why she’d do that when she could’ve just gone down the stairs when her mother fell asleep. This entire exchange was making him feel immature. Having to sneak about was something teenagers did. When she threw up a leg to climb through the window, the feeling only grew stronger.

He grabbed her hand to help ease the clumsy process, bending to grab her other hand. Her second foot caught on the curtain as it passed through the window, and she fell forward against him, face first into his chest. She laughed, her breath hot against his skin, and he smiled into her messy hair.

She backed away from him, letting go of his hands and kicking off her shoes. “Didn’t think I’d have to wait twenty four years to get a guy alone in my guest room.”

Ravus stepped back to sit on the edge of the bed, watching her dust dirt off her knees. Her t-shirt was overly lumpy at the waist. She had plush parts on her, but nothing that oddly shaped. Her look up at him brought his attention away from her waist, but she’d noticed his stare.

“I brought the goods,” she said, voice becoming conspiratorial. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and quickly pulled it up.

For a split second, he prepared himself for seeing her breasts, but she stopped just below, the bottom curve of them teasing his line of sight. Sticking halfway out of the waist of her pajama bottoms was a book, a box of cookies, and a deck of cards. She pulled each item out, tossing them onto the bed next to him. When it came to the cookies, she opened the box with a little frown.

“Uh. They’re kinda melted.” Walking toward him with her midriff and under-breast still in view, she plucked one of the cookies from the box and tossed it into her mouth. “Still good, though.”

She was… ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous for loving someone so ridiculous.

He took the cookies when she handed them over and pulled her shirt down. Crawling onto the bed next to him, she poked at his bare side. He felt overly exposed in only his undergarments, but it was far too warm in this house for him to put anything else on. Any warmer and he would begin to sweat. Sitting on a bed with her was already threatening such an outcome.

Rather than the come-ons he expected out of her, she sat cross legged on the bed and broke out the cards, showing him a game she’d learned from Prompto and the prince. Ravus relaxed into the casual interaction, sitting across from her and picking up the rules without difficulty.

“So we’re really doing this,” she murmured, her eyes focused on her hand. By the look of it, she had a good one, but Ravus was fairly confident in his own.

“Sneaking about and staying up late?” he asked, keeping his own voice quiet. They didn’t need to. It wasn’t as if her mother could hear them. But the furtiveness of this rendezvous called for that kind of behavior. This was why it made him feel so young. He wasn’t yet sure if he liked it.

She looked up, nudging him with a foot. “We’re getting married. I can’t believe…” Looking down at her cards again, she took a deep breath and let it out with a smile. “I can’t believe you proposed.”

Why would that be so hard to believe? Marrying her had been on his mind for months. Prior to Niflheim, prior to them ever being intimate. He’d never doubted that she was the one he’d been waiting for. She was the one to make him realize he’d been waiting for someone to enter his life at all. Someone who would brighten it and challenge him.

“Feel free to back out if it’s so daunting to you,” he said casually, drawing a card.

She snorted, nudging him again. “As if. _You’re_ the one who’s gonna be running away when you realize how weird I am.”

“I’m well aware of your eccentricities.” Ravus placed his hand down, revealing his cards. “There is no one else I’d rather be my partner.”

Her eyes widened at his cards before flicking up to meet his. “Good,” she said, her voice becoming even softer. Then she put her cards down on top of his, a winning hand. “Because you’re stuck with me, papa-gâteau.”

He smiled, and when she picked up the cookie box, the smile grew without permission at the pout that crossed her face. “Empty?”

She nodded, shaking the box uselessly. “What are my winnings if we’ve eaten all of the betting chips?”

Ravus began to pick up the cards, her legs stretching to rest over his. She was probably on a slow crawl toward straddling him, and the thought had him blushing. He wouldn’t hasten the contact —he wasn’t _beastly—_ but he wouldn’t stop her, either. They were to be married. As she was his betrothed now, it was merely—

Suddenly, his hands freezing around the gathered stack of cards, he realized why it was such a heavy realization for her. It hadn’t quite hit him before what this meant. He’d wanted her to be in his life _forever_ for such a long time, he’d taken for granted that it hadn’t been guaranteed until now.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” she said, disrupting his thoughts. He looked up to see her leaning back on her palms, grinning at him. “You have to answer a question. Any question.”

He put the cards down, his smile easing into a neutral expression. This wasn’t going to be just any question. She was out to make him squirm or blush even further. He refused to back down, meeting her gaze head on in wait. Whatever silly question spilled from her mouth, he’d answer easily and honestly, his burning face be damned.

“What was it that you first liked about me? And I don’t mean my eyes or my smile or whatever,” she said, shifting her legs over his. That slow movement to get closer to him. “Give me something honest.”

He mulled it over, looking at her carefully. This wasn’t exactly the brand of question he’d anticipated. “Your unavailability appealed to me. It felt safe to want you because I didn’t think I could ever have you.”

She blinked, and he wanted to pull her closer, to wipe away the bit of surprise on her face. “Because I’m a commoner or because I was in love with someone else?”

He remained quiet for a minute, long enough that she lifted a hand to brush fingers across his cheek and down his jaw. He closed his eyes, the barest hint of a smile coming to him. “I had a responsibility. You’d come to Tenebrae seeking help, and I’d made a promise to Aranea that I would take care of you.”

She cupped his jaw, and he felt the warmth of her palm against him. “So you were just keeping a promise.”

“Initially, yes. I’d been drawn in by how absolutely pathetic you were.” He opened his eyes, though they remained lidded, meeting hers. She was closer now, leaned forward with her thighs draped over his knees.

“Wow, thanks.” She rolled her eyes, dropping her hand to rest it at his chest, which rumbled with a chuckle. That was another rare thing he let her enjoy alone; his laugh.

“Don’t pretend you were fond of me so quickly.” Unable to resist any longer, he drew her to him, pulling her into his lap completely and holding her close to his chest. “You despised and rejected the guidance I offered.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, her breath hitting his neck in gentle wafts. “Sorry I was such a little shit back then.”

He let out a small scoff into her hair. “As if it’s any different now.” She tried to flick him in the face, but he caught her hand, holding it to his chest as his arm at her waist tightened. “I love that about you. It keeps me alert.”

She burrowed into him, her legs wrapping around his waist, filling him with warmth. It was such a small thing, but saying the word “love” was still a rare occurrence between them. Luckily, it didn’t need to be said. He could feel it in her touch, sense it in the smiles he tried to hide from her, and hear it in the silence that sat between them comfortably. Embarrassingly, he was almost smothering in how much he loved her.

“The first thing I liked was the way you spoke to me.”

Ravus’ brows drew together. “I did notice your strange preference for men with accents that differ from your own.”

She lifted her head to look at him, blushing slightly at the minor call out. “I meant the way you never sugarcoated things. I liked your honesty. Even when it made me feel like shit.”

With a hand trailing a line down her back to rest at her backside, he took a deep breath, trying to breath her in. “This isn’t a night of making confessions. Do you care for another round?”

She lifted her hands to his shoulders, her fingers playing with his hair. He needed to pull it back because it was getting rather sultry in here, and he didn’t want it irritating and sticking to his neck.

With a lean forward, she made him pause as her lips drew close to his. If she tried to seduce him now, there was no going back. He was going to marry her, he’d mastered how to cast blessings, and he’d never, in all his life, loved someone so much. She could have him however she wanted.

“I can feel you getting excited, Ravus,” she whispered before biting back a giggle that brushed her breasts against him. She wasn’t wearing a bra, a fact that hadn’t ever left the backburner of his mind. “I don’t think you wanna play cards.”

He would be fine if that’s all she’d had in mind coming down here. He would also be fine if she wanted to fill the room with their shared musk of lovemaking. She was a lovely weight in his arms, he could—

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Her use of the pet name halted his thoughts. “This isn’t the best time for me.”

Ravus, suddenly ashamed of how hard he’d become in their talk about love, nodded with a soft look at her. He understood. Her mother was ill and today was a lot of excitement at once. He’d never considered that she would have moods of disinterest in sex, but didn’t that happen to everyone?

He let go of her, and she slid back from his lap. He expected to return to the card game or even delve into the book she’d brought. Instead, she sat on her knees and gripped the waistband of his underwear with her hands.

Ravus started, hands lifting but touching nothing as she tugged them down and revealed the length of him to the open air. “What are you—”

“I wanna taste,” she murmured softly, bending down to curl a hand around it and take the tip into her mouth.

Every time he let her see this much of him, he had a split second moment of uncertainty, a reminder of how he’d felt when they’d first ventured into this part of their relationship. A person so experienced would only find him lacking, he’d thought. Never before had he been concerned over whether or not he was… big enough. After all of her talk about her endowed lovers when they had merely been friends, it had crossed his mind once or twice.

Those early days of giving in to his interest in her had been taxing in that way. Should he wear something more inviting? Should he buy her things? Have her watch him train to let her see how he could care for her? It had become easy, as natural as breathing, once he recognized that none of it mattered. She loved him, and that was all she seemed to care about.

He let these thoughts go as she circled him with her tongue. His hands fell to his sides, twisting into the blankets. This was white hot, nearly unbearable pleasure. He was _still_ growing used to her touch on any part of his body, felt the familiar gooseflesh rise on occasion, but he didn’t think he would ever get used to her mouth on him.

She was without reservation, licking and sucking him in the quiet of the night, the only accompaniment being the song of the crickets from outside and the breeze that billowed through the window curtains. He bent forward slightly, an unintentional movement as his breathing hitched and grew heavier. Her lack of hesitation made his blood rush harder.

Her fearlessness was catching. It had been an early acknowledgement of his, the attraction. A confusing and horrible realization he’d had to contend with as far back as her first stay in Tenebrae. Disrespecting him in front of others, taking up so much of his time, testing his patience, and he’d resisted the ever growing urge to kiss her in each instance. The thoughts had been disturbing to him then, but now, now he was falling apart at her touch, happy that he’d ultimately given in to the urge.

A shudder tore through him when she began to pick up the pace, her tongue slick as it circled and caressed. Enveloped in the warmth of her mouth, he came far sooner than he meant to. He closed his eyes, a hand coming to play in her hair. He didn’t have to lead her through what he wanted. She kept going for a moment longer, hollowing her cheeks in a slow draw of him out of her, just the tip pressed at her lips, her tongue teasing at the overly sensitive spot.

He groaned, biting down hard when she took him in one last time, the wet heat of her mouth only able to take half of him, before pulling him out completely. Opening his lidded eyes, he watched her lick at what remained. He always seemed to give more than she could swallow.

There was something primal in him that felt pride in that. Something equally primal spurred in him at seeing her on her knees, peeking up at him and treating him with the adoration he didn’t deserve but had learned to thrive in.

It had him taking her face in his hands, bending forward to meld his lips with hers. Tasting himself on her, he licked past the seam of her mouth and brought her closer. She lifted with him, her hands gaining purchase on his thighs.

“Could I tempt you?” he asked against her mouth. Her hand brushed his waning arousal, and he kissed her again. The room smelled too strongly of lavender, and the bed creaked loudly with each move they made, but he felt so full, overflowing with heightened elation from the day. He wanted to share that with her. He wanted to share everything.

She leaned back, a line of saliva breaking between their mouths as she laughed softly. “I _want_ to, but I’m—” She dropped her head to his chest. “I’m cramping and bleeding like hell right now.”

Again, slight shame bit at him for wanting to press her. He didn’t share the disgust that seemed apparent in her culture over menstruation, but he was ill prepared for that kind of situation in their intimacy. Pulling the waistband of his underpants up to cover himself, he let her leave his lap.

The cards had scattered on the bedspread, and he gathered them while she got up from the bed with the empty cookie box. She threw it into the bin, crawling back onto the bed as he packed the cards into their box and put them on the bedside table.

He watched her roll her shoulders and stretched his own before saying, “Take off your shirt.”

She blinked, then smiled. “Papa-gâteau, you’re so forward tonight.” It was flirty and lilting, making his face warm a little.

He didn’t respond, adjusting the pillows to lean back on the headboard. When he was relaxed, she’d slipped the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. The sight of her curves and bare skin went right through him. She ran her hands over her breasts and down her stomach, as if momentarily self-conscious.

Picking up the book she’d brought, he handed it to her. “Face your back toward me and read.”

Her smile had softened, mild confusion coming to her as she took the book from him. “Okay?” She settled between his legs, peeking over her shoulder and opening the book in her lap.

He brought his hands to her shoulders, kneading the muscles there gently. He’d never given a massage, but he wanted to show appreciation in some way. She’d said she was cramping. He wanted to touch her. This only made sense.

She relaxed into his touch, an unspoken reassurance that he was doing well. He’d expected her to read silently, but she began the tale in quiet tones, putting on voices for each character. A chapter into the book, he leaned forward, his mouth brushing her neck as he peered over her shoulder at the book.

“The prince and the pauper,” he said, noticing how she’d given the prince a terrible Tenebraen accent. “Wouldn’t Cinderella be more appropriate?”

With a snort, she turned her head, her nose touching his. “Sure, but I don’t have that one.”

After kissing her gently, he leaned back again, his hands lightly scratching down the soft skin of her back. She read into the night, the story broken only by the soft sighs she gave when he would kiss her shoulder or neck. He let her voice coil around him, her warm presence a vice on his heart.

He didn’t want to go to sleep or face his departure in the morning.

—

Sweat beaded at his brow and pooled slightly in the hollows of his collar bones. She’d woken him in the middle of the night. Not with a kick. He could sleep through her kicking, but this… Half draped over him, she writhed a little and moaned into his skin. He swallowed thickly, all sleepiness leaving him with the feel of her grinding into his side. This was worse than her kicking could ever be.

The clock read five in the morning, too early to reasonably get out of bed. He forced himself to look away from it when a mere minute seemed to drag on for eternity. Her breaths hit his chest heavily, her hand on his stomach tensing every few seconds, grasping at an unknown pleasure that her subconscious had dredged up in her rest.

“Ravus,” she murmured for the third time since waking him. “Please, yes.”

Alright, it wasn’t entirely unknown, and it pleased him immensely. But there was nothing he could do for her aside from let her enjoy the dream. He shifted against her, resting a hand underneath his head. He could wait it out. Closing his eyes, he tried to slip into meditation. She ground into his side again, her fingertips digging into his abs and her leg tightening around his.

No. Meditation was impossible like this. He was achingly hard, and every time she moved against him, his resolve to leave her be grew weaker. Grabbing her wrist, he gently removed her arm from him and slid out of bed.

He peered through the window, hand holding the curtain out of the way, as he considered what he should do. The crickets had quieted, and the promise of the sunrise had turned the sky outside into a lighter shade of blue. Aranea was picking him up by nine, which gave him a few hours. To do what, exactly, he was unsure.

“Mmm, papa…”

He let the curtain drop closed, turning around to see her pull his pillow to her chest. She rolled onto her back, arching on the bed. He frowned, the sound of her panting going straight to his erection. A shower. That’s what he needed. A very, very cold one.

The adjoining bathroom was difficult to maneuver around. He, a grown man, shouldn’t have had such a hard time figuring out how to operate the bath. It didn’t help that his elbows kept knocking things off the counter as he turned around in the small space. Standing underneath the cold stream of water in frustration minutes later, he rested hands against the tiled wall and attempted to empty his mind.

She’d called him papa in her sex dream. Never had she done that when they’d been intimate. He’d seen it as a line they shouldn’t cross. Perhaps not a kink she wanted to explore because she’d never been shy about anything else so far. The thought had him closing his eyes. A hand left the wall, touching his chest as his breaths grew heavy.

His mind strayed and fought against his bid to clear of all thought, forming a scene of her over him in his bed at the manor. She whispered praises, telling him he would be the perfect papa. The cold water coursing down his body did nothing for his wave of lust. It sent a shiver over him, but he remained hard, thoughts conjuring up more images of her.

He thought of her begging him, of her straddling him with impatience, of her wanting to make love in hopes of building a family. The thought of this being a real possibility now made him tense, his head resting against the tile as his hand slid down his chest and over his stomach. He hesitated before taking himself in hand. He’d never done this, and to be desperate enough that he’d do it in her mother’s home only added a layer of guilt to the action.

Stroking himself to the memory of her moaning his name, to that soft cry of his pet name falling from her lips, he shifted his other hand to the valve. Shakily, he turned it over and basked in the slowly warming water. Mimicking how she always touched him, he had to face the fact that the feel of his own hand wasn’t quite as nice.

He braced an arm against the wall, hot water flowing down his form and steaming up the room. In his mind, they were in the manor’s dining hall. She was naked, bent over the table and waiting. Her skin was flush, her nipples pert from the cold.

 _Here?_ he’d ask, undoing his pants and freeing himself. _Anyone could see, ma crevette._

 _I don’t care, papa-gâteau. I need you. Right now,_ she’d breathe, guiding him into her with a moan.

He’d hold her against his chest, an arm around her waist and a hand comfortably at her throat. He’d bury himself deep and rock cries out of her that would echo through the manor and warn everyone to stay out of the dining hall, to make it clear that only he could bring her to such heights.

The orgasm shuddered through him, sudden and as hot as the water that now reddened his skin. He groaned around gritted teeth, coming thick ropes against the tile and slowing his hand to a stop. The guilt coming back to him, he opened his eyes and stepped back, dropping his arm from the wall.

Letting go of himself, he put his hand under the stream of water and watched his seed wash away. He’d completely lost himself in the past forty eight hours. Jealousy, another unfamiliar emotion, had brought him here. He’d never had the opportunity to discover how territorial he could be until now. Then extreme elation had kept him here for longer than planned. That had been on the more pleasant end of emotions he’d rarely experienced.

He suppressed the guilt, recognizing that he was allowed to fantasize. Beginning a relationship with her had been transformative, and not acknowledging that would’ve been an insult to everything they’d been through. One secret moment of weakness was the least of his concern.

—

He walked through the quiet house to the kitchen. The sun was rising outside, lighting up each room he passed through. He’d put everything on aside from the long outer coat of his robes, the place still too damn warm for his liking. If this was typical for early summer on this side of Insomnia, he shuddered to think of what it would be like as the season went on.

Entering the kitchen had him pausing in the doorway. Her mother was awake, walking around with a busy step. She was moving with more purpose and energy than she had the day before. The water was running in the sink, and she dropped bits of vegetables into a strainer placed underneath the flow, chopping them as she went. Ravus snapped to attention when she motioned him over.

 _Flour,_ she signed, thankfully going slowly about it. She pointed at a high cabinet, and he nodded, crossing the room to get it. After that came another order, then another until he was traveling the room in circles. There had to be a more efficient way of getting everything, he thought.

It wasn’t until she was silently laughing and wiping her hands off on her apron that he realized she was just seeing how much she could get him to do for her. Sitting down at the table, he tried not to take on a sullen look. He was a prince, not her assistant.

She turned to him and asked, _Is she still resting?_

“I assume so,” he said, deciding to play dumb. She was old fashioned, after all. “I haven’t been upstairs to check.”

Her smile grew. _Good answer._

With a sort of charm that could only be described as aggressively matronly, she had him up from the table moments later. He helped her make breakfast, dirtying his undershirt and learning how to properly use a whisk. He couldn’t say he actually knew what one was before. There was no mention of her sad looks from the day before or the concern she’d shown every time her daughter would openly flirt with him.

He knew there was an underlying sense of worry, and he couldn’t blame her. He was taking her daughter across the sea permanently, giving her a life of much greater responsibility than this simple one she’d known. If there was anything he could do to impress upon her mother his best of intentions, he would’ve done it already.

Focusing on the task of flipping a pancake, he willed his thoughts aside and tried to do it the way she’d _just_ shown him. It failed entirely, missing the pan and slapping the edge of the counter before flopping to the floor. She shook her head and took over as he bent to clean it up.

Tossing away the remains, he had to fight the very real relief he felt when his love stumbled sleepily into the kitchen. She stared at him for a beat, then smiled.

“Morning. Didn’t know you could cook.”

“I can’t.” He crossed the kitchen to brush a lock of her tangled hair out of her face. “Did you rest well, ma crevette?”

A blush came to her lovely face, and when he lifted his hand again to touch her cheek, she caught it in both of her own.

“Let me braid your hair.” She looked past him. He followed her gaze, seeing her mother looking their way. “I’m stealing your helper.”

Her mother waved them off, apparently unbothered to have lost Ravus’ help. He was almost insulted. He’d _tried_ to follow her instructions to a T, and he’d— he’d gotten things from very high shelves. These petty thoughts left him as his love pulled him by the hand into the living room.

She made him sit on a pillow at the foot of the couch, her hands resting on his shoulders to keep him from shifting around too much to find a more comfortable spot that didn’t exist. Her fingers combing through his hair was the very definition of paradise. His eyes fell closed within moments, his body relaxing completely as she carefully pleated his hair.

She hummed lightly, her fingertips occasionally slipping down his nape and tracing over his ears, sending little chills down his back. He wanted to stay this way all day, but he could sense the time slipping by, drawing closer to the twenty four hour mark. She was making it increasingly difficult to leave.

So much so that he didn’t feel the appropriate embarrassment when her mother came to get them for breakfast only to find him kissing her far too deeply for a simple good morning.

—

With his hair braided, it stayed out of his face even with the strong wind from the open windows of Aranea’s car. Normally, he’d never be seen in public with his hair in any other fashion than what was expected, but he paid no mind to Aranea’s intermittent looks throughout the drive.

He touched the end of the braid, the garish sparkle of the band she’d used shining in the sunlight. It made him miss her, suddenly and sharply. Ridiculous. He’d only said goodbye an hour before. Now that they were going to be apart for a while, he needed to regather himself emotionally. He needed to be the calm body of water that steadied and soothed her when she returned home later.

Home. Ravus blinked against the wind at his face and fought a sigh. His mother was going to have so much to say about everything once he returned. No doubt Luna had told her already. Wouldn’t he get the enjoyment of telling anyone who mattered?

“We’re getting married,” he said, louder than intended. He’d meant to speak over the wind, but his voice carried heavily through the car.

Aranea sent him a side glance. “No shit?”

“None.”

Her hands on the steering wheel tightened. She’d told him more than once during their trip in Niflheim that she didn’t really understand his relationship. Was she going to berate him now?

“I think I’m owed a thanks,” she said. He peered over at her, and she kept going, probably knowing he wasn’t going to respond. “For sending her your way.”

“I anticipated a threat.”

“I _should_ threaten you,” she said. “I should’ve kicked your ass the moment I found out you were interested. The kid has enough going on. It’s always _something._ Now it’s you, and it’s marriage.”

He scowled, turning his gaze out the window. She couldn’t simply be happy for him. Aranea wasn’t good at that kind of gesture. She liked to fuss and boss about, rather motherly in this case. Ravus would likely hear a lot of this all the way to Galdin Quay.

When they stopped at the first pit stop beyond the Wall, he hoped to smooth some of her nerves by buying their meal at the diner. She wasted time afterward talking to the mechanic, and Ravus held back complaints of her wasting time.

He stared about the place, taking note of the dust in the dry air and the rough look of the people that milled about. It was even hotter out here; he unclasped his coat with a sigh. The little convenience store sold cigarettes, though not the brand he preferred. He lit one on his way out, watching as Aranea not so subtly flexed for the mechanic. He could recall times when she'd done the same to him.

Ravus touched at the braid in his hair, already strands of it falling out of place, and sat on a crate next to a stack of tires. Missing her more than he should’ve, he burned through the smoke and wondered how tomorrow, or any other day thereafter, could ever follow the past day.

In all his thirty three years, he’d never been so happy.

—

Lifting up on the tips of your toes, you invaded Ignis’ space. The dim glow from the bulb at the ceiling of your trailer glinted off his glasses. Your mouth met his in an uncoordinated brush of your lips. His hands tightened at your waist, and you found that encouraging, pressing into him further until you were flush against him. He was tense, his grip tight and his mouth unmoving on your own.

Breaking the kiss, you lifted your hands to his face. “Ignis, please.”

He pushed you back, and you frowned. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, skimming wildly over your face. Then, he pushed you back another step, dipping his head to press his mouth to yours. You dropped your hands, gripping at the lapel of his jacket.

Falling back onto the small couch, you invited his tongue into your mouth. It was slick against yours, as teasing as his hands that smoothed up your sides. Pain ached in your chest, ripping sharply. You masked a breathy cry as a moan and trailed a hand down his chest to tug at his belt.

“Please,” you repeated against his mouth. Your mind was still hazy from the comedown of whatever you’d taken, your heart racing, and your body yearning for _something_ to make the pain go away, if only temporarily.

Ignis hitched a knee between your legs, rubbing his thigh against you and capturing your pleas with more heated attention from his mouth. This was what you wanted, what you needed. His hands on your body, all thoughts out of your mind.

You palmed at him, feeling how stiff he was growing in his trousers. It needed to be inside you. Now. You pulled at the clasp of his belt, unbuckling it while he began to kiss along your jaw, soft brushes of his lips moving down your neck.

You leaned away from it. That wasn’t what you wanted. No gentle kisses. What the hell did he think this was?

He lifted himself, sucking in a hard breath as your hand slipped into his pants, a loose grip catching on his hard cock. That’s all you wanted, a reminder of something you’d never gotten from Ravus. You would be _fine_ without him. He’d never even gotten this far.

You fought the burning ache in your chest, inviting the conflicting feeling that grew between your thighs. Leaning up, you smashed another thoughtless kiss to Ignis’ mouth and dropped back to smile at him. It felt like a grimace, even to you, but he didn’t seem to notice, his eyes closed as you slowly stroked him.

“You were the last person inside me,” you said, and his eyes snapped open, green falling on you. “Do you remember how great it felt?”

He bent, kissing you again. Tears pricked at your eyes, a sick, heavy feeling weighing you down.

“I do,” he said, his eyes falling shut again as his forehead rested against yours.

You stroked him harder, jerking your hand roughly to pull him out of this sweet state. That wasn’t what you wanted. This was a distraction, a moment of release from your stressful lives. Didn’t he want that, too?

“Iggy,” you breathed, your voice pleading. “Use me. Please.”

His eyes opened slowly this time, his head lifting away from yours. One of his hands left your breasts to take hold of your wrist, pulling it away from his erection and out of his trousers. He tensed when you tried to touch him again, holding your wrist firmly.

“Tell me,” he said, his eyes hard on yours. “Tell me you love me, and I will do anything you wish.”

Tears began to pool in your eyes. That wasn’t fair. No words were coming, and they never would. Not the ones he wanted to hear. His jaw hardened, his eyes dropping and shifting away.

“Of course,” he said curtly, letting go of your wrist and removing himself.

You reached for him, grabbing the front of his shirt. “Iggy, I want—”

“Don’t.” He gently pried your hand off and stood up. “Don’t do this to us.”

Your vision blurred, tears spilling down your face. You sucked in a shuddered breath, wiping at the moisture to watch Ignis straighten himself out. The pain in your chest deepened, and you curled in on yourself, covering your face with your hands.

A knock at the door resounded through the trailer, but you didn’t move, a sob working its way out of you. You heard Ignis walk around, and you wished he would just leave. All you felt now was humiliation and disgust with yourself. One of your hands was heavy with the musk of him, and it made your stomach churn.

“What did you do to her?”

The voice of your assistant made you drop your hands, your cries falling into the open air. As you smeared away the heavy tears, you caught Ignis just as he stepped through the main doorway.

Your assistant shut the door after him, a glare on her face. For her to have the gall to be upset at Ignis made you feel an odd kind of comfort. So far, she’d taken her job with more professionalism than she had any right to as an intern, and now it seemed to be bleeding into genuine care for you.

Too bad she was upset with the wrong person. You were the one who’d tried to get Ignis to use you. If he had been a lesser person, he would’ve been fucking you right now. But he wasn’t. He didn’t deserve this just for checking on you, and you hated him for being able to love you and still turn you down.

Your assistant huffed and went to your side. “Should I take care of him?”

You laughed, the sound more of a croak than anything. “That’s sweet, but if you’re gonna beat anyone up, it should be me.”

There was something familiar about this exchange that you couldn’t place, especially when she shook her head and said, “I’d never do that.”

You sniffed, wiping at your face with a sleeve. “Why are you here so late?”

She cleared her throat, turning away to inspect the box of takeout that Ignis had brought. “I saw the article. I’m sorry about the prince.”

You uncurled, knowing you needed to get yourself together in front of her. Sobbing in the presence of your assistant was generally frowned upon unless you were one of the certified drama queens, which was a role reserved for the actors.

“I keep falling for impossible men,” you said, channeling your inner drama queen regardless.

She opened the takeout box, peering at its contents. “It’s not your fault. You have a big heart. I get it.”

You laughed again, taking the food when she handed it to you. “You’re precious.”

Her face flushed, a sight you were long used to. “I do mean it,” she said, going to the fridge for a bottle of water. “The queen must have her reasons, right?”

You stabbed the food with the fork and aggressively took the bite, speaking around it. “Right. She hates me.”

The assistant uncapped the bottle and handed it to you next, sighing a little when you gulped a third of it down in one go.

“Maybe you should call him,” she said. “The prince. He has to have _something_ to say.”

You shoveled food into your mouth, trying not to cry anymore despite the feeling choking its way up your throat. “I fucking doubt it.”

“He was going to marry you.”

“So?”

“So he was going to marry you, and you think he has nothing at all to say about the Oracle changing her mind?”

She had a point. You didn’t actually follow it until she’d left hours later, waiting until you were completely alone. But nothing went through. Your message was met with a [Message Unable to Send] prompt, and your phone call went to an error message saying the number had been disconnected. Feeling a new level of distress over this, you tried calling again and again, your heart sinking deeper into your stomach every time you heard the recorded voice tell you, in crisp Tenebraen, that you no longer had any way of contacting Ravus.

The same thing was happening with the knight’s number, too. Wonderful.

Way to throw salt into the wounds, you thought, staring down at his contact in your phone. Was this something done by the Oracle, severing the only connection you had to one another? She had seemed to like you before. She’d seemed reasonable of mind about your relationship until now. It was so _sudden._

Or was it Ravus who didn’t want you to contact him?

Considering this and the past day you’d just had, rather than let the pain overwhelm you, bitter irritation begin to set in. He had no comment to give? That absolute bastard. You’d moved across the world to be with him. You’d went to that antiquated academy and did everything the right way to gain his mother’s blessing. Now that you’d lost her approval, he didn’t want to speak out and didn’t want to, at the very least, explain himself? Fuck that. Ravus was _lucky_ you couldn’t call him because you wanted to give him the biggest verbal lashing of his life.

Pacing your trailer, you let anger take over. This was easier to process, a simpler emotion that only fueled your restlessness. Your phone chimed in your hand, and you checked it with a glare. It was only an email from the director. Super. Another script change. All the actors wanted to improvise the lines they thought sucked and—

Email. You could still email Ravus. Ignoring the late night work being pressed upon you by the insomniac director, you opened a new email and addressed it to Ravus. The anger burned through you, dragging your thumbs over your phone’s screen rapidly. By the time you’d written seven long paragraphs of possibly unintelligible, run-on bullshit sentences, the feeling had waned back into the softer notes of sorrow. You deleted it and locked your phone. You knew better.

The assistant had been right. Ravus would have something to say. He wasn’t known for letting things rest if it wasn’t something he agreed with. You touched the hourglass hanging from your neck, feeling his magic thrum through you. You took a long, slow breath. The heavy, sinking feeling in you made thinking difficult. Going to the miniscule space that served as your bedroom, you lay down and reopened your emails.

_I love you._

You sent it and closed your eyes. Sleep wasn’t going to come, but you could pretend.

—

An extended kiss scene was holding you hostage. The actors it involved had an off set romance that you were worried would end before production was finished. If that happened, their on-screen chemistry would be completely fucked.

“I’ve given blowjobs that were quicker than this kiss,” you mumbled to the Actor.

He leaned into you, his quiet laugh rocking his chest against your shoulder. “I want to pitch something to you.”

You elbowed him, hating when he invaded your space like that. “Give it to me later.”

Another quiet chuckle. “That’s the idea.”

You tensed, really wishing he wouldn’t. He’d been dropping hints for two weeks. The man had no sensitivity. You’d been emotionally unstable enough to spill all of your breakup feelings on him in a series of rants on the day that followed the release of the Oracle’s disapproval. That seemed to make him think he had a special right to flirt with you. It didn’t help that Ignis hadn’t ever come back. Part of you wondered if he’d been deflecting the Actor all along.

You’d thought it was your imagination —he was _famous—_ but the hints were becoming more and more obvious. You were hurt by the insensitivity of it, but you’d become so isolated in the weeks after the engagement’s sudden end that his attention was something you felt you needed, even when it felt toxic.

You emailed Ravus, sometimes just a sentence about missing him, other times entire paragraphs about your day. You couldn’t wait to get back to Tenebrae when filming ended. The media was going to be a shirtstorm, and going to the manor demanding answers was going to hurt, but you had every intention of getting an explanation from Ravus himself. He’d yet to ever respond to your emails. You wondered if he even read them.

“Let me take you out,” Lead Actor said, bumping his shoulder into yours.

You frowned, suddenly hating that there even had to be a kiss scene in the movie. This was reaching softcore porn levels. _Why_ was this happening to you? As if the gods were granting you a reprieve, tired of your inner turmoil, the director called cut. The set went into motion, and you were able to turn to the Actor. He was looking down at you hopefully.

“No. We’re too busy,” you said, not wanting to sugarcoat it. You shifted uncomfortably, then walked off toward craft services.

“Afterward,” he was quick to say. He followed you, both his approach and tone casual. He really thought he had you, and this date, in the bag. “When I can eat real food, and you can get actual sleep.”

“I’ll be in Tenebrae.”

“I love Tenebrae. I visit all the time.”

You picked up a bagel, immediately picking it apart without thinking. You weren’t even hungry, so the bits of bread fell to the table, littering the spaces between displays of finger foods. When you turned toward him, ready to tell him straight up that it was _never_ going to happen, you saw your red-faced assistant rush toward you with two people right behind her.

Aranea was all seriousness, and Luna looked deeply concerned. Walking past the Actor, you met the three with heavy confusion. “What’s going on?”

Your assistant gestured at the two women, completely flustered. “They wanted to see you. Immediately. I tried to get them to wait, but—”

You nodded, patting her shoulder comfortably. “What is it?” This time, your question was addressed to the others, your eyes going between their faces.

Aranea spoke first. “Where’s Ravus?”

Shaking your head, you looked between them again. “What?”

Luna stepped forward, her expression serious but searching. “Please tell us. Has he contacted you?”

Another shake of your head, and you were beginning to worry. “No. His phone is disconnected.”

Aranea sighed, looking away as she brought her hands to her hips. “You have to be kidding me.”

“What’s going on?” you repeated, a little desperately this time. “Why are you asking me where he is?”

Luna clasped her hands in front of herself, her fingers tightening and loosening their grip on one another. “Ravus is missing. He left the manor over a month ago.” She looked over at Aranea with a frown. “I was only told yesterday.”

Aranea sighed again, meeting the princess’ stare. “The queen thought we’d find him by now.”

“He’s… what?” you were having extreme difficulty processing this. “He wouldn’t just disappear.”

Crossing her arms, Aranea looked at you. “Explain where he’s been for the past month, kid.”

You rose your hands and arms in an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know, but he wouldn’t run away.”

Places were being called, the set a sudden flurry of bodies to get back into position. You were _not_ going to be able to focus after this. “Let’s talk about it in my trailer,” you said, trying to usher them out.

Aranea didn’t move. “No, if you don’t know where he is, I’m going to look for someone who does.”

Luna dropped her anxious hands. “If she doesn’t, no one does.”

Ignoring the calls and the brush of people around you, you stepped closer to them, the worry in your gut growing and settling hard. “Tell me everything. What happened?”

Aranea loosened her crossed arms, running a hand down her face. “Now isn’t the time to play dumb.”

Your nerves spiked, your frustration building. “I literally have no fucking idea what’s going on. Is Ravus okay or not?”

She stared down at you, then stepped forward with a hard look, her hand leaving her face to press her index finger to your collar. “The day before he fell off the grid, he called me. Told me you didn’t want to marry him. That you didn’t know what you’d agreed to.”

Luna touched Aranea’s arm, her voice placating. “He wouldn’t disappear because she broke things off with him. He isn’t so irrational. You know that.”

Aranea’s finger stopped digging into your chest, her hand falling away when she stepped back. She was only frowning, but you could sense a deeper anger aimed toward you. It made you shift in place, realizing how nice it had been when Aranea had used this intimidation on your behalf rather than on _you._ Then, Luna’s words caught up to you.

“I didn’t break things off, the Oracle did!” You were growing increasingly upset, worry and frustration battling it out in your heart and mind. A firm grip on your arm began to tug at you, and your attention was caught by your assistant.

“Maybe take it outside. Everyone is staring, boss.”

Not wasting a moment to take in all the looks you must’ve been giving, you went for the exit with your gaze low and hoped the others would follow. Thankfully, they did, but Aranea didn’t stop outside the soundstage to talk to you, her expression hard and her stride unbroken. Luna slowed, looking between you but not stopping either.

You sighed, matching her step. “You really don’t know where he is?”

She shook her head. “I’d thought his silence had been born of my mother’s announcement. I wanted to give him— you both time and space.”

“She only retracted her blessing to get him to come back,” Aranea said over her shoulder.

You wished she would just tell you everything and try to make sense. You wanted to help. “Aranea, would you fucking _slow down_ and fill me in?”

She rounded on you, and you nearly ran into her. “You caused this. Just let me do my job.”

Glaring at her, you shook your head. She came to your workplace with half-assed explanations about the man you loved being _missing,_ and blamed you for it? Why did it seem like everyone was slowly turning against you?

“Fine,” you bit out. “Fuck you, then.”

She rolled her eyes and set off again, walking away without another word.

Luna touched your arm, and you shoved it off. “Don’t be this way,” she said gently. “I’m sorry. She’s been looking for so long. She’s feeling defeated.”

You stepped away from her, avoiding her comforting hand again. “Stop.” Turning your glare on her, you felt the frustration win out. “Stop acting like you can help. Ravus and I are over; you don’t have to pretend we’re friends.”

Completely unbothered by your snapping, Luna gave you a patient look and said, “If you hear anything from him, please let me know. Take care.”

Left alone with your assistant, you buried your face in your hands. She said something, but you paid no attention, all of your thoughts overwhelming you. No one knew where Ravus was. He’d been gone for over a month, and it was your fault. Because everything was your fault. Even when placing a distance between yourself and the people you didn’t want to hurt, you somehow found a way to royally fuck everything up.

Dropping your hands, you dismissed your assistant. For the first time ever, she actually listened, not asking if there was _anything_ she could get you before leaving. Your trailer was a short walk away, and when you arrived, you were met with the concerned face of the Actor.

“Some big drama happening?”

You stared at him, your mind a cacophony of thought and stimuli you couldn’t yet organize. “Do you have anything to smoke?”

He rose a brow, then nodded.

That was all you needed to hear. You let him into your trailer after you, ready to forget the stupid argument.

—

Except you couldn’t.

“She blames it all on _me,_ ” you said, taking a drag, the hazy film over you doing nothing to deter your fretting. “Like I made him leave. He does what he wants.”

“That’s right. You’re so right,” Actor said. Your trailer had become an echo chamber, him sitting at the table while you sprawled on the little couch. He was your own personal _yes man,_ agreeing with it all and listening to you ramble. You’d repeated the entirety of the conversation with Aranea and Luna four times already, still not understanding exactly what was going on.

“You better not tell anybody about this,” you said, pointing at him as you passed the joint back.

He took it from you with a shake of his head. “No, no. Your assistant threatens me enough.”

You sat back, looking at the cloudy sky through the window. “She what?”

“She threatens me to not slander you,” he said. “You have a lot of people watching your back.”

That was pretty weird. “She’s just… overexcited.”

He leaned down, passing it back to you and blowing more smoke into the already smoky room. “Yeah, well. My assistant sucks. He won’t even walk my dog.”

You blinked. “You have a dog? You never told me you had a dog.”

He chuckled, looking down at you with a goofy smile. “You never asked.”

He was hot. The thought forced its way to the forefront of your mind. He was hot, you were high, but that wasn’t who you were anymore.

“I’m never gonna date you,” you blurted, blinking through the haze to keep your eyes steady on his.

He looked away first. “I know. Your assistant threatens me about that all the time, too.”

Careful with the joint between your fingers, you sat up to shoot him a confused look. “What exactly does she say?”

He chuckled again, scratching at the scruff on his jaw. “That if I came on to you, she’d castrate me.”

A laugh forced its way out of you, and you slapped a hand over your mouth, the giggles coming on hard suddenly. He took the joint from you, beginning to laugh himself. The sound joined the smoke in the air for several minutes. The high was treating you well, not so much a trip as a pleasant sensation of floating. You were a cloud.

“I bet she’s doing that because I almost slept with Ignis a few weeks ago. I think I stressed her out.”

Actor coughed in the middle of a drag. “With peanut gallery? That guy’s _never_ been laid.”

Oh, how wrong he was. You stifled another laugh, planning to tell him whatever the hell he could want to know about sex with Ignis. He interrupted you to say something far more interesting and important.

“If you put peanut gallery and Ignis together, you get… penis.”

You nodded, your mind expanding at his brilliance. “Yes. I think you’re onto something.”

He blinked several times, then looked at you. “Is that why he hasn’t been around? He was really growing on me.”

Bringing your knees up, you hugged them and took a deep breath. Ignis was just another person you’d fucked over. You were still holding his title, avoiding any contact with him out of the guilt you still felt.

“I think my friendship with him is over,” you said. “For good this time.”

“That’s a pessimistic way to think,” Actor said with arched brows. “You won’t know unless you talk to him.”

You snorted. “What do you know? You don’t get paid to think. You look like a strung out baby Regis right now.”

He touched his costume, the trailer devolving into laughter over absolutely nothing all over again.

—

Concern over Ravus and all of the related issues in your life kept you from concentrating on work. You were dismissed without any heartache because, at this point, they didn’t need anymore rewriting. As you’d packed, you’d made a to do list.

_Give Ignis his title back_

_Visit Mom_

_Find Ravus_

Taking a rental car through the city to the Scientia estate, you began to regret your choice of transportation when it took much longer to get to your destination than you’d guessed it would. You couldn’t ask Aranea to drive you— she was likely still pissed, and you were prideful. You also thought taking the train wouldn’t have made you feel properly important. You were an adult with a real job, making both movies and bank. And you were thoroughly humbled by the intensity of morning rush hour traffic.

A phone call to Uncle Scientia made sure that Ignis would be there when you arrived. You weren’t trying to ambush him; facing him after what had happened was just a little… nerve wracking. Uncle met you at the entrance, guiding you through the property while other members of the family greeted you in passing.

You’d expected some kind of upset since so much negative media attention had surfaced of your association with their family name. It was as if none of the leak had happened. Not questioning it, you nodded and smiled at anyone you passed and held great attention to Uncle and all of his questions about your life.

Ignis was in the drawing room when you arrived. He looked between you and Uncle, slow realization dawning perfectly on his face.

“Hey,” you greeted weakly with a small wave.

He nodded. “Good morning.”

Silence settled from there, as uncomfortable as the movements of your fingertips along the strap of your bag and the shift of your boots on the nice floor. Ignis, while not looking particularly hostile, didn’t seem pleased either.

“Well, right,” you cleared your throat and looked to Uncle. “Where do I sign?”

While he gathered the documents from a nearby filing cabinet, you met eyes with Ignis again. The line of his mouth was pulled into a frown, one that was a bit too sharp to be his resting expression. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, touching a paperweight on the nearby desk.

“I’m sorry,” you couldn’t help saying, your voice quiet.

Ignis shook his head, a curt movement accompanied only by tight lips and silence.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Uncle said, lifting a stack of documents from a tightly bound folder. “You’ve helped Ignis immensely; there is nothing to be sorry for.” He placed the papers down carefully, his kind smile easing you just a little.

The signing took almost half an hour, much less eventful this time around. Ignis finished signing before you did, the only one ever speaking up being Uncle when you needed to know where to sign next. You looked up when Uncle flipped through to the next document, catching Ignis putting his pen into an inner pocket of his jacket. His expression gave you nothing, an empty slate marked only by his set frown.

Forcing your gaze down, you kept going, sometimes scrawling your name next to his, other times initialing some spaces between large blocks of text. You could feel how tense Ignis was. Or was the apprehension only in you, his stress more of a projection on how _you_ felt? With the last signature done, you had to stew in it while Uncle reorganized everything.

“Oh,” he suddenly said, touching his forehead. “I’ve misplaced my seal marker. Give me but a moment.”

A little baffled at this sudden statement, you watched Uncle leave the room. He shut the door behind him, creating a wake of silence. You heard Ignis sigh and turned to him for some kind of explanation. Adjusting his glasses, he pursed his lips in an unamused look you knew well. Then he walked around the desk to open a drawer. He lifted a small device, something like a metal stamper, and placed it on the desk.

“I’m not certain as to why,” he said, finally addressing you. “But he wants for us to talk before I receive my rights.”

You nodded as if you totally understood, but you weren’t really sure what you could say. Ignis wasn’t accepting your apologies. He didn’t have to, but you’d been in a bad place. He had purposely shown up to your trailer knowing you were at a low point. He’d known you were crushed about your engagement ending; he’d arrived to comfort.

It was your fault for trying to sleep with him, but it wasn’t your fault he’d briefly thought it was more. It wasn’t at all your fault he was still in love with you. You’d thought you’d both gotten so far past that.

You almost wanted to admit that you might’ve tried to sleep with Prompto had _he_ been the one to arrive like he’d planned. Anyone you trusted would’ve worked, really. But that would only make this awkward situation worse. It would’ve driven home the fact that you really had been just trying to use him as a warm body for a night, being the disgusting person the tabloids had said you were.

Wishing you could smoke here and now, you cleared your throat and pushed those thoughts aside. “I really am sorry, Ignis.”

His green eyes eased slightly along with his expression. Not a smile but not the frown from before, at least. He took a deep breath in through his nose, seeming to think for a moment. Then he looked down, adjusting a glove as his jaw worked.

“I think it’s for the best,” he said, looking up to meet your eyes again. “That we become as uninvolved with one another as possible.”

You stared at him, not understanding. “We’ve tried that. It just makes things weird when we go long periods without talking.”

He shook his head, dropping his hand away to stop the fidgeting of his glove. “That isn’t what I meant.”

Raising your hands in confusion, you scoffed a little. Not communicating and giving each other cold shoulders had done nothing but wreck your friendship over and over again. “We’ll just miscommunicate like we always do. We just—”

“I don’t want you in my life,” he snapped. His eyes widened at his own small outburst. Then he nodded, as if doubling down in his decision. “It’s unhealthy for us both.”

You had to look away, messing with the paperweight on the desk again. “Are you really breaking up with me right now?”

“This is exactly what I’m referring to.” Ignis’ voice was a little harder, and you felt smaller suddenly. “You’re perfectly capable of not adding romantic connotations to what you say, yet you choose your words carelessly.”

Your gaze went back up to him, no argument coming to mind. Nothing you did was ever with the intent to hurt, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be careless. Instead, a question bubbled up. “Why are you punishing me for getting over you?”

Ignis seemed to hold back a sigh. “This isn’t about you.”

“Yeah, it is.” You nodded, your stomach sinking. Everything you said came out increasingly lethargic. “It’s about me and you. It’s about me being selfish and you being insane because you can’t get over me.”

You already knew you weren’t going to change his mind on this. You’d always been able to read him well; he had the same determined look on his face that he did with things related to work. He was completely serious.

His jaw tightened again, his frown returning. “It does feel akin to insanity. I can’t enjoy a drink, I can’t hear a dirty joke, I can’t look at a cactuar without thinking of you.”

“I never meant for you to care so much.”

“On the contrary, that was precisely your intent.” He crossed his arms, his gaze on you hard. “With your body in the beginning and your heart later on. I’ve allowed it to cloud my judgement for long enough.”

Your stomach sank deeper, growing heavier. “What am I supposed to do, huh?”

His eyes were sharp and his words sharper. “Let me go.”

“What are you talking abou—,” you said, emotions beginning to finally well. They were horrid, burning rips in your chest. It was close to spilling over, revealing itself in your voice. “I let you go a _long_ time ago.”

“If that’s so,” Ignis said, his jaw tight and his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was closing himself off. He was a book closing, becoming impossible to read. “Why are you arguing with me now?”

The finality of this pierced you, stinging at your eyes and hollowing your chest. You’d expected it, in a way. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise at all; everyone seemed to be jumping ship from your life in some way or another. Even Ignis.

“Okay,” you forced out, shrugging to show that you weren't going to argue any further. It was hard keeping eye contact with him, but you did so he’d know you were being honest. Honesty was all you had anymore. “I’ll— I’ll stop.”

You didn’t need to specify. You didn’t know _what_ to specify. You’d stop… being in his life? Ignis nodded again as if answering your thoughts, his expression relentlessly hard and unwavering.

“If you will.” He let his arms fall to his sides, a hand held out to you.

You furrowed your brow, looking between his face and his hand. “We’re shaking on this?”

He cleared his throat, not retracting his hand. “The final step. For my title.”

Oh, right. You’d been doing something important only minutes ago. Lifting your hand, you took his in a grip that was loose and uncertain at first. The supple leather of Ignis’ glove felt as nice as it always had, a soft, smooth warmth against your palm. His hold on your hand was firm, and he kept the contact brief, two shakes before letting go.

“You have my thanks.” He turned toward the papers that Uncle had stacked on the desk and began to gather them carefully. “You may go. My uncle will notarize everything when he returns.”

You curled your hand into a fist, dropping it to your side. That was it, then. You were common again. You’d had the potential to be a princess not that long ago, and now you could be anyone. Just not anyone noble. In a way, it was a relief. You hadn’t known anything else all your life.

“I can have someone show you the way out, if you like,” Ignis said, putting on a polite voice.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You left the room as quickly as you could, trying not to let that last image of Ignis cement itself into your mind. He wanted to be a stranger so you would treat him like one, but you weren’t going to just forget everything you’d been through together. It meant so much—

Oh.

You stopped in the middle of a hallway, wide eyes staring down at the polished wooden floor. The grain of it was knotted, the lines uneven but no less beautiful. You bit hard on your lip as you looked down at it, not wanting to overthink the realization that had hit you. Acknowledging it was enough.

It felt like nothing was going to be okay, but you’d gotten through much worse.

—

You deviated from your to do list. Finding Ravus should’ve been your top priority. He was a constant thought in the back of your mind and an unbelievable ache in your heart. But you didn’t know anything about finding a missing person. It wasn’t like in the movies where you and Ravus had a special place where you would meet that he’d been hiding in.

He _could_ have been in the private library for the past month, but you doubted he would hold himself up in the castle like that. Then again, you hadn’t thought Ravus the type to disappear into thin air like he had. It bothered you that you had no idea what was going on with him right now. Nothing was making sense. Did he really think you’d left him for good? Was the Oracle against you being together because she blamed you for his disappearance? Most importantly, was he alright? The questions were endless.

With Ignis completely cutting you out of his life and Ravus missing, you could think of nowhere else to go but to Prompto. He had been your rock from the very beginning.

The moment you had accidentally spilled rum and Jetty’s on your shirt at a college party at his apartment, he’d taken you to his bedroom, and you’d pulled your shirt off in front of him, all of your flaws be damned, he’d become your best friend. Because, instead of waxing horrendously shitty dirty talk in hopes of getting more clothes off of you, he’d pointed out the faint stretch marks at the sides of your waist.

“Hey, just like mine,” he’d said, lifting his own shirt to show you. The marks of being an overweight child who’d thinned out in puberty.

You’d been ready to fuck and forget him, to cheat on your terrible boyfriend because it had been your only freedom at the time, but Prompto had made you laugh. And while your shirt spent a round in his laundry room, you’d talked about video games, comic books, and people you thought were hot. It turned out, you shared almost everything in common. By the time you’d left the next morning with a warm shirt and an even warmer hug from him, you’d wanted to be near no one else more.

Stretch marks long since faded after years of care, you went to Prompto’s new place —Gladio’s, it was Gladio’s apartment in the city— and pushed the buzzer next to the beautifully written _Amicitia_ on the list of tenants. As you waited for an answer, you looked at the name and wondered if it would be appropriate to put _—Argentum_ next to Gladio’s listing. It had been a while, and last you knew, they were getting pretty serious. Two surnames that began with A would get approved in the Citadel pretty quickly for when they decided to just do it.

“Hello?”

You were so fucking stoked to hear Prompto’s voice on the speaker. You could’ve texted him, but you’d driven the rental in too much of a daze on your way over. This would’ve felt awkward with anyone else, but you smiled at the sound of his confused voice on the other end of the staticy receiver.

“Hey, can I come up?”

There was a minor pause, then a laugh through the speaker as the buzzer went off at the main entrance unlocking for you. You went inside and upstairs without issue, glad that at least one person on Eos still thought you were worth their time.

The smile you gave him when he opened the front door wasn’t met with the equal grin you’d expected. Prompto was, by all appearance, immediately concerned. You frowned, standing still as he pulled you into a hug.

“What happened this time?”

There was something about that sentence that you hated. _This time._ As if you’d already made so many mistakes. Well, alright, you had. But you were weak right now. A feather could knock you over and hold you down. Prompto could sense that because the hug ran long.

He held you in the entranceway, pulling you close as the front door closed behind you. You’d come here with the full intentions of unloading yourself onto him. He was good for it. You wanted to talk about Ignis and enlist his help in getting your friend back. But you couldn’t. There was no point. Ignis had made up his mind, and you had to respect that.

You didn’t want to cry. You never wanted to cry. You could hear Ravus telling you it was natural to let it out. Funny coming from someone so repressed. You huffed a small laugh into Prompto’s shoulder at the memory. You’d cried in front of Ravus more than anyone in all your life just because of the situation you’d been in upon meeting one another. You wanted to spare Prompto from that. He couldn’t keep being your crutch, just like Ignis couldn’t. It wasn’t their job to take responsibility for you or your feelings, a concept that Ravus had tried to instill in you that you hadn’t fully understood until today.

“I dunno if you know this,” you said into Prompto’s neck. “But Ravus is missing, and a lot of people hate me, I think. Even the Oracle. Which is like, next level.”

Prompto squeezed you a little tighter, and you knew that meant he was going to end the hug soon. You let go of him and backed away. He took your hand and led you further into the apartment.

“She can’t hate you,” he said, looking at you over his shoulder.

You shook your head. “Because the Oracle is supposed to be incapable of hate? I’m telling you, Prom, she—”

He gave you a smile, an easy upturn to a corner of his mouth. The sight of it eased you a little. “Because you’re perfect, dude. Now shut up and c’mere.” He made you sit with him on the sofa and lifted his phone from the coffee table. Swiping at the screen a few times, he handed it to you with a nod. “Read that.”

You looked at him in confusion, eyes falling to the string of messages on the screen. There were a lot, the thread seeming to go back pretty extensively, but he’d scrolled to the beginning of a conversation that had happened just over a month before.

 **_Prompto:_ ** _u shld just talk 2 her_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I’m respecting her wishes._

 **_Prompto:_ ** _y not cum here like u did b4_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _it waz incred!!! movie lvl drama_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _wait thats rite u cant pass the wall_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _her phone bg is a cheezy pic of ur face in a book lol_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Translate._

 **_Prompto:_ ** _lololol rite !! the background on her phone is a picture of you in a library_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _she looks at it all day_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _when shes not lookin at the actor_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _mabe u shld b worried_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Jealousy is the product of insecurity and distrust._

 **_Prompto:_ ** _dude evry1 gets jelly_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _Iggy cums 2 c her a lot 2_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _u got 2 b jelly evn a lil_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Perhaps._

 **_Prompto:_ ** _gud bcuz u need 2 get on her lvl_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _i thot u were gud at bein honest w/ ppl_

 **_Prompto:_ ** _but ur wastin time not talkin 2 her_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _I know what I’m doing._

 **_Prompto:_ ** _gud,, tell me_

 **_Ravus:_ ** _Just as you said._

 **_Prompto:_ ** _wat did i say??_

The last message was unable to send, and you realized that had to be the point at which Ravus had gotten his phone disconnected. Or maybe he’d just thrown it off a bridge outside the manor in frustration at Prompto’s apparent incessant banter toward him.

You reread it all before looking up at your best friend. “You talk to each other?”

“Yeah, we did for a while,” he said, taking the device from you. “I wanted to get to know the dude if you were really gonna be serious with him.”

That warmed you, and you leaned against his side. You’d thought he was far too intimidated by Ravus to have any kind of relationship beyond unfortunate acquaintanceship. The trip to Niflheim probably had much to do with it. Thinking over the conversation he’d shown you, now you were even more at a loss for what to do.

So you spilled your thoughts out, and they slowly filled the coffee table, manifesting in sticky notes that Prompto had taken from Gladio’s office. Each was covered in awful, rushed handwriting. It was like your old college days of planning projects together. Prompto helped you organize them between short bursts of laughter and jabs. He disrupted you every time you felt an oncoming heavy feeling by adding completely ridiculous notes to the mess.

“Ravus and I will have ten kids?” you read aloud, shooting Prompto a reluctant smile. “I don’t think so, dude.”

He snickered, already writing a new one that he placed on the table a moment later. This one said _One kid, and it’s named after my best friend._

You scoffed lightly, wadding it up along with the other nonsense notes he’d added. “I dunno if I want to name my kid after the lead actor of the first movie I’ve written. It seems… corny.”

Prompto dodged the wad of paper when you threw it at him. “What? He can’t be your best friend!”

You chewed on the end of the pen in your hand and shrugged. “I’m running out of options. Everybody’s mad at me, and _you_ were secretly feeding Ravus info about me.”

He began drawing a dick on the next note because of course. “Only trying to help.”

You knew that to be true, but it was still very weird to you. Ravus had never mentioned keeping in touch with Prompto. “What else did you talk about?”

He shrugged, sticking the dick drawing down on top of a note reading _Who dumped who?_ and sending you another grin. “Not much. Just you.”

Chewing on your lip, you stopped yourself from asking more questions about it. You didn’t think you wanted to know what Prompto could’ve told Ravus. Or worse, what Ravus might’ve found worthy of a reply. You stood back, eyes scanning the table of notes. This was fun and nostalgic but mostly useless. Trying to make sense of your emotions and the situations around you was nothing like storyboarding.

It was like waterboarding, if anything.

You sighed and ran hands down your face, no doubt leaving streaks of red in your skin from your nails. Okay, this was fine. You had nothing to lose at this point. You took a deep breath and let your hands fall.

“I’m gonna find him,” you said, looking to Prompto. “I don’t know if I’ll attack him or hug him when I do. I’ll figure that out later.”

“Great start.” Prompto snapped his fingers. “What next?”

You stared at him, a small laugh tumbling out of you. “Prom, you’re supposed to talk me out of it.”

His eyes widened along with his smile. “Why? Maybe I wanna go on a wild chocobo chase with you for a prince who doesn’t wanna be found.”

Wouldn’t _that_ be fun. You had sudden, powerful memories of your time on the road together. As lovely as he was, you weren’t sure Prompto would’ve been your first choice for a constant travel companion or detective. You began to remove the sticky notes, piling them together. This had been a nice distraction from the truth, but there was nothing you could do about Ravus but wait. He’d make himself known when he wanted to. You couldn’t really fathom just _why_ he’d gone to such a great length to disappear and cause so much hidden fuss.

The Oracle had clearly been keeping it under tight wraps so you weren't sure what you were going to do once you returned to Tenebrae. You hoped she would tell you everything, or at least more than the very little information Aranea had given you. With the blessing retracted, would you even be welcome back to the manor? Thoughts like this began to bombard you, questions popping up quicker than you could finish them.

Prompto brought you back to the present, slapping a sticky note to your face before bending to help you with gathering the others. You elbowed him as you pulled it off. It was another drawing of a dick, this one with veins and an angry face on its head. You snorted, putting it on the pile to throw away.

“What am I gonna do, Prom?” It was a murmur, coming out softer than intended. You fought a sigh. “They’re gonna eat me alive when I get back to Tenebrae.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

You rolled your eyes. “The worst of it’s not even the guilt over how much I’ve slept around. When I left, everyone was questioning if I was good enough to— to—” What was the word that had been used most often? “To _beget_ the new line of oracles because I might have genetically inherited psychological issues.”

Taking the wad of wasted paper from your hands, Prompto huffed a breath of light laughter. “Everybody does; they’re just being hypocrites. It’s the media. It’s their job to bring people down.” He led you toward the kitchen, looking at you over his shoulder. “Go to Tenebrae, talk to the Oracle, Ravus will turn up— I bet he’s just at your apartment since it’s the most obvious place to look.”

You leaned on the counter, the marble surface cold on your forearms. “Pretty sure they’ve looked there by now.” You watched him toss everything into a hidden bin and chewed on your lip in thought. “You really think I can just go back and they’ll let it go?”

Prompto nodded. “I bet they’ve already forgotten.”

They hadn’t. You’d checked. You were still one of the most searched names online in Tenebrae, and it was often paired with _mental illness_ or _drug addiction._ You felt lucky that you hadn’t received any death threats for wanting to tarnish the royal line, at least. In that regard, the little kingdom remained true to its claim of warm hearts.

Your trepidation must’ve been apparent because Prompto scratched his neck and said, “If you’re really worried, why not go get the receipts? That way if they come at you, you can lay down the facts.”

You mulled over this suggestion, resistance already cropping up in your mind. “What if I find out that I do have a bad family history?”

Prompto drummed his fingers along the counter. It was comforting in an old, familiar way. He was thinking heavily, and you appreciated that his kind of caring was warm and in your face. “Okay, so here’s the deal? I think dad-cake will marry you no matter what. The guy seems pretty set in his decisions. So if it’s bad, he won’t care.”

Tilting your head, you stared at him. “But I’m talking about the people.”

Prompto’s fingers on the counter found yours, covering them in a comforting squeeze. “He’s the only one that matters. I’ve seen what he’d do for you firsthand. I think he’d make sure it all worked out, dude.”

The memory of Ravus asking you to trust him rushed to the forefront of your mind. He’d been so clear in asking that of you, and you’d still found ways to muck everything up. Like only you can. You stamped down on that negative thought process, knowing you needed to stop it before the train left the station.

“So you think I should find my dad?” you asked, turning your hands over to hold Prompto’s. But he was already letting go and standing up straight with a small stretch.

Hands behind his head, smile in place, he nodded. “Yeah, he can't be worse than mine.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help silently agreeing.

—

Getting back on track, in a way, you left the city for the open countryside due west. The flat expanses and forests beyond were unchanging, and you were glad for the first time ever that your hometown never changed. The perpetual state of things made it easy for your clouded mind to navigate through the one-street town and past the farms without any mishaps.

The cars that were in the drive told you that Mom had company. When you entered the house and heard the chatter, you realized it was her book club. Which was great. You’d encouraged her to join something again while she regained her footing in life. She needed to get another hobby besides worrying too much about you.

The moment you stepped into the archway between the hall and the living room, the group of people sitting around the space went quiet and looked your way. You waved, recognizing no one, and signed, _Can I ask you something?_

Mom nodded, excusing herself and passing you to stand in the hallway. She smiled, but her brow was furrowed. _I thought you were visiting next week. Is your movie over?_

Feeling immediate guilt at both interrupting her social time and not having any intent to stick around to personally visit with her, you signed, _I left early. Something important came up._

She nodded, her smile fading. _What do you need? I can ask them to leave._

With a quick shake of your head, you decided to just go for it. The day was nearing mid afternoon, and you wanted to be outside the Wall before nightfall. Last you’d known, your biological father lived somewhere in Cleigne, so you had quite a drive ahead of you if that remained the case.

_Can you tell me where my father is? I need to talk to him._

Mom’s expression slackened completely, her eyes growing wide. _Why are you asking about him?_

Prepared for reluctance and questions, you were quick and to the point in your explanation. _I need to ask about my ancestry. It’s important for when I go back to Tenebrae._ You already knew everything there was to know about your family history on her side. If everything checked out on your father’s end, you could dispel the media speculation and answer any questions that the public had.

If it didn’t… you hoped Prompto was right. You had no idea where you stood with Ravus anymore. Now that you knew the Oracle had —if Aranea was to be believed— primarily rescinded her blessing just to draw Ravus home, you hoped that meant whenever he did decide to make an appearance, you could start over. Provided you didn’t thrash him for disappearing in the first place. With how worried Aranea and Luna had been, there was likely a line forming to do just that.

 _It’s about the prince._ Mom signed, her shock melting into understanding. _I thought that was over. Why would you need to know your ancestry for him?_

You bristled. This was something you needed for your own peace of mind. _What do you have against Ravus?_

She blinked, and you felt an old pain rising at what she chose to say next. _You left him for a reason, honey. I just want you to be happy._

You took a deep breath through your nose, wishing she would understand. How could she not? How could she say your happiness was most important but not see how much her lack of support was affecting you? You were trying so hard to stop doubting yourself. If you were really going to get Ravus back, you needed to believe you could handle being a duchess. You’d be anything at this point, if it meant there would be some kind of stability between you again.

 _Ravus makes me happy, mom. I wish you would give him a real chance. Just once,_ you sign, the movement rough with emotion, your finger like a match being struck into flame against the ridges of your palm. _Mama would’ve loved him._

She stared at you, her eyes widening again at your last remark. You were right, and she knew it. Your other mom would’ve loved Ravus and all of his contradictory points, his rough edges and the deeply hidden soft center. She would’ve given him the hardest time, and he would’ve impressed her.

You went to the bookshelf at the end of the hall, fingers shaky and tense from signing so roughly. Skimming them along the different spines, you found the book you were looking for. _The Prince and the Pauper._ You pulled it out and opened it as you turned to face her again.

“Look,” you said aloud, flipping through to the title page where a handwritten note had a been penned out. It was a little faded and messy, but still readable. It had been there for as long as you could remember.

_I know we are worlds apart, but I’ll help you organize your boring books if you’ll help me take care of my fussy chocobos. I know we can thrive. Our differences are what make us such a force. I love you._

As a kid, you’d never thought much of the note. It had been nothing more than your moms being gross and lovey-dovey with each other. Now, you thought it was a message for you. That Mama had somehow known you would need to have a simple reminder because she wouldn’t be here to tell you in person.

She’d had awful handwriting, and this was much less poetic than something Mom could have written, but you appreciated the sentiment behind it. You hoped Mom would see that and agree. She took the book from you, examining the note for a moment. Her face softened, a finger brushing the old lines of ink.

When she closed the book, she looked at you and nodded. You didn’t return the hug she gave you, not at first. A corner of the book dug into your side uncomfortably, but that became instantly easy to ignore when you heard Mom let out a quiet, uneven breath. You could count the number of times you’d ever seen her cry on one hand. Experiencing your second long hug of the day, you let her take a moment to gather herself. She patted your cheek when letting you go, her eyes wet.

 _I’ll go get his information._ She slid the book carefully back into place on the shelf and went up the staircase.

As she left, you walked back to the archway to the living room. All attention went directly to you, curious glances aimed your way by the group of people with books in hand. You’d used sign language to keep the conversation private, and you wondered if they were disappointed by that. You left the archway, having said nothing, when Mom touched your arm. She handed you a manila envelope, a small smile easing onto her face.

 _He moved to Lestallum a few years back. You have quite a trip ahead._ She straightened a bit of hair out of your face. _Tell my future son that if he brings flowers to my house, he has to clean them up when they wilt. I’m never dealing with that again._

Not understanding at first, you nodded slowly, then smiled.

Her own smile grew just a little. _Visit soon. Both of you._

Nodding your head more aggressively , your mind already began to reel at the reality of your journey ahead. You opened the envelope as soon as you got back into the rental car. It was a profile, a short stack of documents clipped together with basic information about— Clarence Fortuna, a hunter who’d donated his sperm during a brief stint in the Crown City at the age of twenty.

You looked at the attached picture with fascination, seeing where your hair color had come from. And oh, that explained the shape of your face and the angle of your cheek bones. In the photo, he was leaned against a polearm dug into the ground with a wide grin on his face. A note on the lower end of that page said he liked to go by _Lance._

You flipped through it without really delving into his information, then dug out the rest of what the manila envelope held. A few letters and a card fell into your lap. They were all opened and addressed to you. The card had a cartoon chocobo on its front with a big number one next to it. You didn’t open it for fear of becoming uncomfortable. You couldn’t afford to lose focus right now.

Looking through the letters, you found the most recent one and took a picture of the return address. Then, because you really didn’t have self control, you peeked at the card. All that was written on the inside was, _Happy birthday, little one._ Laughing at yourself, you put it all away and started the car.

You pulled down the long driveway and mentally prepared yourself for the long cross-country trip, your to do list totally abandoned.

—

Dust lifted and curled in the air around your feet when you stepped out of the car in Hammerhead. The sun hang low in the sky. By the time you made it to your first resting point in Duscae, you expected to see a full moon.

Cindy stood near the garage, a rag in a hand and a smile on her face. She walked your way, lifting an arm in a congenial wave. You stretched, wondering if you should eat here or wait until you arrived at the Chocobo Post. It wasn’t necessarily part of your trip, but you deserved a major pickmeup. Eyeing the diner, you remembered how late the outdoor cafe stayed open and decided to wait. You weren’t that hungry anyway.

“Wasn’t expectin’ you for awhile longer,” Cindy said, already doing that thing she did. The thing where she put her hands on her hips and leaned forward a little. Most of your interactions with the mechanic had been during your travels with Prompto, and she’d inspired a number of late night, ultra private and guilty conversations about the only situation in which you could ever see yourself sleeping with Prompto.

Sharing a bed with two attractive blondes? If only you didn’t have room for just one person in your bed anymore.

Blinking away the distracting thoughts —a few years of restrained sexual activity did that to someone as freely amorous as yourself— you dropped your arms and said, “Spontaneous road trip.”

“Prompto not with you on this one?”

“Nope.” You popped the p and stretched your legs next, bending one way and the other. Cindy wasn’t the only one who had moves.

“I’ll fill up your tank,” she said, righting herself and putting a hand on the top of the rental. “Want me to get your gun outta storage?”

You nodded, knowing you weren’t coming back to Hammerhead for a long while. It needed to be maintained, and you were hoping to practice soon to see if you’d gotten rusty in all your time in Tenebrae.

You walked into the convenience store, idly swiping through the main interface of your phone to get a better look at your background. Prompto had been right about what he’d told Ravus. It was a nice picture, his expression of relaxed focus as he read made your heart swell. Wherever he was, you hoped he was successful in whatever he was trying to do. You made yourself lock the phone and picked up a granola bar and a Jetty’s for the energy you’d need to make the rest of the drive to the post.

Standing outside the little shop, you dug into a pocket for a small bag. You’d gotten a bit of weed from Actor before leaving and planned to burn through it during the trip. This was for you, a long self reflection. You needed this comfort.

You noticed Cindy had disappeared, and looked around the lot for any sign of her. Probably left to get your weapon, you thought. You’d bought a holster to hold it concealed under your jacket before giving it to her to hold and part of you was excited to actually store it on your person rather than in a safety of a locked box.

With the plastic bag of your purchases hooked at your elbow, you flicked your lighter over and over with no give. Sighing, you let the joint hang from your mouth and shook the lighter before putting it back into a pocket. It couldn’t have run out of fluid; you’d just bought it.

This was just your luck.

You flicked away the joint and licked your lips. This was fine. You didn’t need it anyway. Fingers coming to your temples and eyes closing, you inhaled a deep breath. You weren’t going to cry. You’d done a great job so far of not falling apart today despite everything. You were strong, and this was better, anyway.

Digging into the bag, you pulled out the Jetty’s. Caffeine was a good replacement. You didn’t need to be high while driving, but a simpler buzz would help. The condensation that covered the glass of it made your hands slip, your grip unable to catch. The metal ridge of the cap dug into your palm, and you hissed, frowning at the red mark in your skin.

Okay, you might cry. You took another deep breath, this time shuddered with blinking eyes.

“Here.”

Looking up, your heart suddenly burned, jumping in your chest at the voice and the long arm stretching your way. Covered in a leather sleeve, it led up to a serene face and messily pulled back silver hair. Ravus took the bottle between long fingers, frowning a little when he twisted the cap and forced to give. He held it out to you, but you were frozen in your stare up at him.

“Ravus.”

His face, framed by loose strands of hair that had grown a touch too long, softened with a slight smile, and he looked down at the drink in his hand. He lifted it to his lips and took a drink, which made you start. You grabbed it from him, carefully enough that it didn’t spill and scowled. How dare he show up when you were about to do something big for yourself.

The way his little smile didn’t fade, his fingers coming up to card through his hair, made you want to kiss him more than throttle him. It was a difficult juxtaposition of feelings overcoming you. He’d always been good for that. Now _you_ were the contradictory one.

You traded the drink between hands. “What are you doing here?”

He touched the leather of his jacket, dusting some desert sand from a sleeve. Then his eyes met yours, his arms crossing.

“Waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two promises: I won't add anymore unplanned chapters, and the next update should be... eventful.
> 
> Thank you for being kind and patient. <3


	10. I want all of you. Forever. Every day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No destination needed.

Your grip on the bottle of Jetty’s was tight, your gaze up at Ravus caught somewhere between anger and surprise. The casual stance and soft smile continued to create conflict in your heart and mind. He looked good for someone who’d been hanging around in the desert for an unknown period of time.

The civilian clothes, his longer hair, and the five o’ clock shadow that adorned his face made him appear rougher than he ever had. He suddenly looked as rude as he often behaved. Did you want to kiss that stubble or knock it clear off his chin?

You averted your eyes, choosing to drink the Jetty's instead.

Ravus said nothing, his arms still crossed and expression serene when you’d downed the entire bottle in one go. You covered your mouth with a hand, quieting a burp. His stare never left you, and had you been anyone else, this would’ve become unsettling pretty quickly.

“You only need to say it, and I will leave.”

Eyes fluttering in confusion, you held the bottle loosely and frowned. “You’d leave. Just like that. After pulling this stunt?” You were incredulous, your grip on the bottle tightening as your frown grew. “You spent over a month here, and you’d really leave if I said so?”

Ravus rolled a shrug over his broad shoulders. “Naturally.”

“What do you mean _naturally_?” Your voice was rising on its own, your throat tightening with the anger that burned in your chest. “Waiting here just to leave is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Who do you—”

A pair of men walking out of the convenience store slowed as they passed you, their side glances curious. A moment of self consciousness had you snapping your mouth shut. You knew what you _weren’t_ going to to, and that was make a scene. With everything that had happened to you today, you weren’t going to let yourself fall apart in the middle of a truck stop.

“We should discuss this in the caravan in which I’m staying.” Ravus tilted his head in the direction of the camper that was permanently parked on the edge of the lot.

Suddenly, surprise was winning out over anger, which cooled in your chest as your frown eased into something softer. After all the times he had talked shit about your tiny living spaces, he’d been staying in that one-room home on wheels?

The sun hang low enough that it cast long shadows over the lot of the caravan, the diner, and the nearby truck where you’d first purchased your gun. With the desert landscape surrounding you shifting into darker reds and browns with the slowly fading sunlight, you took a deep breath of the dry air and shook your head.

“I don’t have time. I have somewhere to be tonight,” you said, looking down at the empty bottle in your hand. You could feel his stare and the question he kept held back. “I’m going to Lestallum.”

He’d loosened his arms and let them drop to his sides when you looked at him. His brow furrowed just the slightest. “You can’t make it across the kingdom in one night.”

“I’m making a stop or two.” You shrugged, fighting the urge to tell him all of your plans. He didn’t need to know. He was just slumming it in Hammerhead, waiting to ambush you, and you weren’t going to let him succeed in asserting himself into your journey. This trip was for your own personal growth and—

“You intend to travel so far on your own?” Ravus asked, disrupting your train of thought.

Indignation rose in you next. “Yeah. Don’t think I can?”

“I only fail to understand your reasoning.”

You stared up at him, losing the inner battle with yourself because you did want, probably more than anything, for him to come with you. You weren’t worried about the perils of travel, the potential breakdowns, and meeting unsavory characters. It was what awaited you in Lestallum that made you want to spill everything to him, even if it was pointless. Ravus was the best protector you’d ever had, but he couldn’t protect you from everything. That much had already been proven.

So you didn’t tell him what you were afraid of facing. Instead, you forced another shrug and asked, “You wanna come with me?”

A moment of silence rested between you, stretching for a beat before he nodded. He turned away, walking toward the caravan —six, he really was staying there— and disappeared inside. You tossed the Jetty’s bottle away and bought another for the drive. Cindy caught you on the way out, holding a locked box out for you to take.

“Did I hear that you’re takin’ that gloom and sass with ya?” she asked as you took a firm grip on the handle.

You smiled in confusion. “What?”

“The grey prince.” She nodded toward the caravan. “I think he’s hidin’ from somethin’. Not sure what, but you might do.”

Oh. Right. You looked over your shoulder at the little mobile home, squinting your eyes against the sun. Facing Cindy again, you chewed on your lip. “Yeah, I might.”

She adjusted the cap on her head, her other hand coming to her hip. “He’s helpful but doesn’t say much. Never smiled until you got here.” She looked past you again briefly. “Kinda glad you’re takin’ him. He’s scared away a few of my regulars.”

You couldn’t help the smile that grew at that. Because of course he would. “How long has he been here?”

She seemed to think, her eyes trailing back to you and her expression growing thoughtful. “About three weeks. He traveled through with a few hunters. It was a peculiar sight. He was much cleaner than the rest.”

“Not a difficult task to accomplish,” Ravus said, catching your attention. You turned to him, finding only one bag thrown over a shoulder. You couldn’t say you were surprised he’d taken so little with him, but to survive out here for three weeks on such a small amount of things… It was crazy to think he’d left the comforts provided by his castle and staff to wait in a dusty pitstop just on the off chance that he would run into you.

—

Ravus didn’t speak on the drive. He didn’t fidget or stare. Every time you looked over at him, he had his gaze forward or out the window. You couldn’t ever recall seeing him in a car with you so it was a novel sight that you kept feeling the need to take in. He had to adjust the passenger seat as far back as it would allow just so he would fit, and his hands rested clasped together casually between his spread knees.

The sun had been replaced by the moon as you crossed into Duscae, the lush, green forests and cooler, wetter air of the region surrounding you. You’d had the car’s sunroof open and closed it when a misty rain began. Ravus hadn’t complained about it tossing the loose strands of his hair around, simply running fingers through it once the window was closed.

You noticed a blue glowing beyond the roadside barricade, passing it before getting a good look. The silence that had joined you on the trip along with Ravus had, so far, been drowned out by a playlist you’d been listening to. You turned it up a bit higher, accelerating harder on the roads that now stretched and weaved through forests and plains.

Another blue glowing spot caught your attention in the far distance between some trees, and you stared at it, wondering if it was another campsite that had been blessed. There were a few of them that you’d stayed on with Prompto, but you didn’t remember but one or two sights being blessed in each region. The Oracle didn’t have time to bless every spot from wild beasts when there were far greater things going on.

The thought had you looking at Ravus yet again. Just what had he been up to while waiting for you?

“Pay attention,” he snapped, a hand coming up to rest on the dashboard.

Eyes snapping forward, you slammed your foot on the brake, jerking forward into the steering wheel. A pack of animals crossed the road ahead, and your heart raced in your chest, adrenaline spiking and falling, leaving a sick feeling in your stomach. When the road cleared, you drove forward, continuing the journey at a more acceptable speed.

You kept your eyes on the road, ignoring both Ravus and the glowing bits of blue that you passed on your way. Why should you care what he’d been up to? He hadn’t asked you about your own endeavors, and you’d done plenty. Some things you weren’t proud of, but important things, nonetheless.

—

The caravan at the Chocobo Post was, from what you could remember, exactly like the one in Hammerhead. Ravus followed you inside, locking the door while you set your bags down on the miniscule table set against one of the walls. You’d stretched when getting out of the car, and now you were yawning.

The pull of sleep was so strong, your feet heavy and eyes droopy. You were too tired to eat, in the end, going directly to the mobile home to sleep rather than peruse the menu of the always open cafe and play with the chocobos who were sleeping anyway.

You shrugged off your coat and kicked off your shoes as you passed through the narrow space of the hallway. Undoing your pants, you pulled them off and crawled directly into one of the two small beds. With the blankets draped over you, you hit the pillow a few times to adjust it more comfortably and settled in. You were exhausted after today and couldn’t wait to have a fresh start.

For how tired you were, sleep didn’t come easily at first. The noise of Ravus shuffling around held your attention for a time, then he appeared, turning out the lights as he went. He had to bend a little to get through the doorway and walk at an angle so his shoulders wouldn’t brush the walls of the hallway.

You watched him draw the blanket back and lay atop it anyway, stretching out as much as he could on the single, built-in bed that sat only a foot away from your own. It was too small for him, one of his legs bent, foot against the wall, while the other leg hang over the edge. A sleepy smile came to you, hidden by the blanket.

His chest heaved with a heavy breath, the moonlight through the window just enough to give you a soft view of his contemplative expression. He’d taken his hair down, the silvery mess of it splayed on his pillow. He rested an arm underneath his head, his eyes open and focused on nothing.

If you reached across the space, you could touch his arm. To stop the urge, you wrapped yourself further up in the blanket and rolled over to face away from him. Rest embraced you then, wholly and more peacefully than it had in months. You told yourself that his presence had nothing to do with it.

—

You startled awake to the alarm you’d set on your phone. Grumbling incoherently, you climbed out of the bed and bent to pick up your jacket from the floor. The phone kept shrieking a supposedly soothing melody that, at this moment, was anything but. When you found it and swiped the alarm off, you frowned at the large 7:00 that stared at you on the screen.

Why had you thought getting up this early was a good idea?

Blinking heavily, you peered about the small bedroom area and saw no sign of Ravus. The bed he’d taken up was slightly rumpled, but clearly he’d never gotten under the blankets. Early morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains at the windows. You climbed back onto the bed, walking on your knees to the window to peer out at the nearby surroundings.

The first thing to catch your eye was a chocobo, bright yellow among the green of the forest. Smoothing a hand down its neck and feeding it greens stood Ravus. He’d changed into a different casual outfit, another plain sweater you’d never seen before, and his hair was down, looking damp in the morning light as it hang over his shoulders.

A frown was set on his face, sharper than usual. The chocobo _kwehed_ , having eaten all of the greens he had in hand. He said something you couldn’t make out, and the bird nosed its beak into his palm. Smoothing another hand down the feathers at its neck, he gave it another pat before bending to get more greens.

Beyond him, the Post appeared empty, early morning hours apparently not a busy time for chocobo visits and races. Seeing his gentle attentions paid to the chocobo had you chewing on your lip, watching him for longer than was necessary. If he was going to be traveling with you, the air needed to be cleared. You hadn’t spoken to each other in months, and you weren’t sure you could bear another drive in silence.

A shower gave you time to gather your thoughts, but when you finally emerged from the caravan half an hour later, you were no closer to knowing just how to deal with him and his unexpected presence. Leaves crunched underneath your feet, spiny pine cones littering the area, and you were careful in your step around them, crushing everything else under your boots.

Ravus looked your way, his attention falling away from the chocobo in favor of your approach. When his hands left the bird’s head, it stepped closer to him, nudging his shoulder. He absently reached up to pet it again, his eyes not leaving you.

You opened your mouth, not entirely sure what would come out. It was meant to be a good morning, or maybe a question of how well he slept. But, as predicted, your thoughts just weren’t organized enough to ease into the conversation. “Why wait for me like that?”

He ran fingers through feathers, looking down at you for a long moment in silence. “I was going to wait regardless. I only chose to wait in the place that was nearest you. One in which I knew you would stop, should you cross the Wall.”

That… was easier answered than you could’ve guessed it would be. It made sense that he’d be prepared for a confrontation. You hadn’t exactly been loving to him since reuniting, and you had no intention of changing that anytime soon. Since he seemed open to answering whatever questions, you decided to keep going, asking whatever came to mind. “Why get rid of your phone and make people worry?”

“I needed pure solitude.”

“It wasn’t to get away from Prompto’s constant messages?” You reached up to pet the chocobo’s neck. It stepped toward you, standing between you both with its eyes closed. The feathers were unbelievably soft under your hand, a weird match to the way Ravus’ eyes gently followed yours, all traces of his frown gone. You didn’t so much feel pinned by it as you felt comforted. “I know he was keeping you filled in on the latest.”

His hand met yours on the bird’s neck, his fingers brushing over yours. The tips of his fingers trailed down your knuckles before moving on to smooth over the yellow feathers. “I realized a time had come for me to make a choice.” His eyes left yours, shifting toward your hand, which had met his again. “So far, the decisions have been placed on you. You chose to move to Tenebrae, you chose to say yes to my proposal, and you chose to leave.”

You let him curl his fingers around yours, lifting it from the chocobo and holding it between you. The bird _kwehed,_ but it went ignored as he squeezed your hand. You didn’t squeeze back, your conflicting emotions still present. He’d seen this as a choice he needed to make? You hadn’t really _left_ him like he seemed to think. At least, you hadn’t considered yourself split up until his mom had called off the engagement. Yet he’d been keeping a distance, giving you zero communication and waiting for you to leave the Wall.

“I’m going back to Tenebrae,” you said, your voice coming out soft. “You know that, right?”

Looking at you again, his eyes moved about your face, his mouth parting but nothing coming forth. He used his grip on your hand to draw you closer to him, and his other hand rose to trail lightly up your neck, his thumb brushing along your jaw. This was more touch than you should’ve let him have, but the contact was electric on your skin. You wanted to close your eyes and lean into it like the chocobo had, but you kept your gaze locked on his.

“That’s where my life is, Ravus. My home, my professional connections…” You were growing unintentionally breathy now, and you cleared your throat to stop that. “And you.”

Your words only seemed to soften him more. His eyes dropped, following your lips as you spoke. He leaned down, strands of his hair tickling your face in the soft, early morning breeze. The tip of his nose grazed the bridge of yours, and you felt the uncalled for thud of your heart beating heavily in your chest at how close he’d gotten.

“May I kiss you?”

A hard swallow and forced restraint had you saying, “No.” You shook your head, breaking the closeness he’d slowly cultivated. “I’m still wondering why I even let you come with me.”

He let go of you, removing his hands to give you space. His jaw worked, tightening for a moment as he looked away. It was brief, that moment of clear irritation, and you almost laughed at how his patience was _finally_ being tested. You weren’t putting him through anything he didn’t deserve. He’d let your engagement end. He’d let you go, and it didn’t matter that you were in love with him. You were justly upset.

Before the conversation could continue, hopefully down a productive route that would help you work through your feelings, Wiz called Ravus’ name as he approached, either not noticing the tension or not caring.

“I’m glad to see you here, Ravus.”

That was a string of words you didn’t think he heard very often, and it took you by surprise. You looked from Wiz to Ravus, curious about the way Ravus ran a hand through his hair before facing the man and nodding.

Wiz smiled, then seemed to only now notice you were there. “Great. You’re here, too. I have an urgent favor to ask.”

Already knowing exactly what he wanted, you nodded. He’d only ever asked for help in caring for the wild chocobos that roamed the local area, and you were always ready to help a chocobo.

While Wiz explained, he looked at Ravus, which made you look at Ravus because he apparently held more authority than you. Even out here in the middle of the countryside. The wayward prince slowly crossed his arms, nodding once Wiz had laid everything out.

“We’ll do it,” you spoke up just as Ravus opened his mouth. He looked down at you, but you were already looking away and assuring Wiz that it would be no problem.

It felt good to have Ravus look at you. The tension from before fell away, leaving a small well of amusement that you couldn’t bite down. There were miraculously more blessed spots around, Ravus had traveled with hunters, and Wiz knew the prince by name. His goings-on were becoming more apparent, and your upset at him was slowly easing into something softer despite how much you wanted to stay angry with him.

—

Finding the chocobo wasn't difficult. She was almost exactly where Wiz had said a few hikers had last seen her the day before. Getting close to her was a struggle, though. You could see why she kept you at a distance, a squawking _kweh_ meeting your every step toward her. Peeking from between her feathers was an egg. The closer to it you became, the more you realized it was cracked and oozing, bits of red and clear fluids pooled around it.

“Ravus,” you whispered, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking closer. “Is there anything we can do about…?”

A beat passed before he said, “No.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, your mind rolling over thoughts heavily and quickly. “She probably destroyed it herself.”

Ravus looked down at you, his brows drawing in confusion.

“They’re not naturally maternal unless the egg was fertilized by their mate.” You twisted the greens in your hand a little. “My mom taught me that.”

Looking at the bird again, Ravus lightly shrugged your hand off his arm. “Why is she on the defensive if she hasn’t any maternal instincts?”

“I dunno,” you said in a rush of breath. “It’s probably because she’s hurt and confused.”

Ravus didn’t respond to that. Instead, he went forward again, holding a hand behind himself for you to stay back. He was being dumb, you thought, because you were the one with the greens. You listened anyway, curious about what he thought he could do to the distressed chocobo.

He stopped feet from it, bending at the knee with an outstretched arm. You stared, frowning because _what was he, a chocobo whisperer now?_ It was hard to fight an eye roll, but you remained curious.

The chocobo hissed at him, clawing into the ground with its good foot and biting at the air between its beak and Ravus’ hand. You stepped closer, going slower than he had, and held the greens in a loose hold.

She didn’t look at you until you began to shake the greens, flicking your wrist in quick movements to catch her attention. It gave Ravus the opening he needed to get closer and crush a potion over her wound. It splashed between his fingers, the capsule of it dissolving into the air as the liquid magic fell onto her wound.

Moments later, she kicked up from the ground and looked between you as if in sudden confusion. Then, in a flurry of feathers, she brushed past Ravus, ripped the greens from your hand, and disappeared into the forest.

You stared after her for a second, then looked at Ravus whose attention was held by the egg. Going to his side, you examined the cracked shell and gooey bits of it with a small amount of regret. You’d only ever heard of them aggressively taking care of unwanted potential offspring. Domesticated chocobos never had that issue unless their handler was irresponsible.

“We should bury it,” you said, but Ravus stopped you from bending down to get it with a firm grip on your shoulder.

“Leave it. It’ll sustain another beast for the day, as is nature.”

Slightly startled at his reasoning, you nodded and let it go. There was no saving it, and you didn’t necessarily want to touch the messy thing as it was.

Still.

You looked at it over your shoulder when you turned back to return to the Post. It was sad to see. Ravus and his too long legs began to leave you behind, finally drawing your attention away from the egg.

“You’ve yet to tell me exactly where we are going,” he said once you caught up to his side.

“Back to the Chocobo Post.”

He frowned at you, and you smiled, letting the interaction completely eat your unsettled feelings over the egg. That was nature; you were actually pretty lucky you hadn’t run into whatever had given the chocobo an injured leg in the first place.

Ravus didn’t seem ready to let it go. “What awaits us in Lestallum?”

You shrugged. “A power plant. The spice market. Some really fucking good gelato.”

He rolled his eyes, ending the conversation by ignoring you and your smiles for the rest of the walk.

—

Ravus refused the payment Wiz offered for helping the wild chocobo. You didn’t think he understood this questing thing very well. Questing had been Prompto’s word for it. He’d thought the idea of running random errands for people for small rewards was something right out of an RPG, and you couldn’t help but agree. After sticking your bag into the trunk of the rental, you left with a quiet prince and a green smoothie from the cafe free of charge. No one said _you_ had to refuse the payment.

Like the night before, the ride was silent at first. You were soon going to begin rounding the Disc of Cauthess, an hours-long drive that would have you seeing a view of it from a full ninety degrees by the end of the day. You switched off the music just minutes into the trip, meeting Ravus’ glance with one of your own as you sipped from the straw tucked into the green smoothie.

“What exactly are you doing, Ravus?” You wanted to call him papa-gâteau. You also wanted to close the distance, to put your hand on his thigh or run your fingers through his hair. But you weren’t ready yet. Your anger had become confusion, and, in a small way you were trying to fight, longing.

He gave you a confused look, his perfect silver brows drawing together over his narrowed eyes. “Joining you on your journey. To wherever you lead me in Lestallum or elsewhere.”

“I mean.” You took a deep breath through your nose, forcing your gaze forward. “What have you been doing this whole time?”

“Waiting for you, as I’ve said.”

Obviously Ravus had been doing more than just waiting. The clues were clear, and you had never known him to remain idle for very long.

“You owe your mom and Luna a huge apology.” And Aranea, you thought. You kept that one quiet because you were still mad at her for being so mad at you. It was _his_ fault she’d been hateful to you.

“I heard news that she had retracted her blessing.”

That gave you pause. So Ravus had known. You’d wondered, briefly, if he’d no idea because he’d left Tenebrae without warning or contact.

“Yeah.” At first that was all you could say, the realization that he’d known she’d taken back her approval of you not settling well in your heart. Suddenly, the anger had returned. Not as strongly as before, but present enough that your chest began to constrict. “She broke off the engagement. Aranea said it was to bring you home, but I guess it didn’t work.”

He was too flippant about it, looking out the passenger window as if bored while he spoke. “It’s nothing more than a falsehood. You ended it when you left.”

Your jaw slackened, and your eyes left the road to bore into him. “I needed time to think. I _told_ you that. I thought you were still fighting for me.”

Meeting your gaze unapologetically, he crossed his arms. “I’m fighting for you now. The only shame is I’m fighting you.”

Glaring at him for a moment longer, you returned your gaze to the road and let out a hard breath. Radio turned up and smoothie in hand, you didn’t entertain anymore conversation with him. You weren’t trying to pick a fight. You were owed an explanation— everyone was. He was being totally unfair, and if he really wanted to blame you for being the one to break things off, you had nothing to talk about.

—

You stopped to refuel at a Coernix station, watching Ravus step into the Crow’s Nest diner just across the lot. Through the windows, you could see him nod at the man behind the counter and sit down at one of the booths. He just fucking sat down, no discussion with you about eating or anything. You frowned, knowing you should eat because the day was halfway through and all you’d had was the smoothie.

Or you could leave him.

Replacing the cap to the fuel tank and closing the lid, you really considered the thought. You didn’t _want_ to leave him behind, but he’d deserve it. Basically telling you it was _your_ fault things had went so badly? Sure, you’d run away first, but you’d planned to come back. You’d put your trust in him, just like he’d asked, and instead of fighting for you like he’d promised, he’d disappeared. You had no idea what the hell he was thinking or doing anymore.

Drumming your fingers on the handle of the car door, you sighed and walked toward the diner. You couldn’t leave him, no matter how much he deserved it. When you walked inside, you found him pulling his hair back, large hands making quick work of getting it out of his face before going to his lap.

His eyes followed you as you walked over and slid into the seat across from him, and you swore to yourself, you wouldn’t smile or give him _anything._ You’d been so ready to search for him and win him back, and now you couldn’t believe you’d been worried about this idiot in the first place. Because that’s what he was, an idiot. It was such a shame he was your favorite one.

You ordered your usual, sparing glances out the window and chewing on your lips to keep from talking. It was going to be difficult not speaking before Ravus because he could remain silent indefinitely. Expressing yourself had never been an issue; you liked having people know exactly how you felt and where they could shove their problems if they had any with you.

Thanks to your diligence, the meal passed uneventfully. That was until, to your total surprise, Ravus spoke first.

“How else was I meant to take your phone call?” The question, being so sudden and out of context, took you a moment to catch on to. He kept going, pushing his plate away from himself and frowning. “You returned the ring and told me you needed a break. This may have been my first relationship, but I’m no fool.”

Irritation burst forth, your hand tightening on your fork. “You gave me a _handbook_ on how to behave when I moved to Tenebrae. I was overwhelmed and— and it doesn’t matter.” You put the fork down roughly and picked up your phone from the table. “Call your mom and let her know you’re okay. They’re going to make your disappearance public soon if you don’t.”

“She likely knows of my whereabouts now that you’ve found me.”

Your hand lowered, the phone going back to the tabletop. You didn’t understand his logic there, and it must’ve been clear in your expression because he followed up with another surprising statement.

“You’re being followed.” He nodded toward the window, and you looked out into the lot. A car, nondescript and dirty with dust, much like your own, was parked in a corner spot out of the way.

This meant nothing to you. “A car?”

Ravus’ mouth curled with a frown, and he was more blatant in looking over your shoulder. “There is a person two booths away who has been trailing you.”

Turning in your seat, you looked over your shoulder and froze. Sitting where Ravus had said, a menu up uselessly as she met your eyes over it, was your assistant. You shuffled out of the booth, confusion lacing through you as you walked toward her.

“What are you doing here?”

She put the menu down, her face growing red. Her eyes darted between you and Ravus, not nervously but with a careful edge to it that you’d seen her use anytime someone was near you that she wasn’t particularly certain of. You hadn’t understood her loyalty then, and you understood this even less.

Standing from her seat, she smoothed down her shirt and lifted her chin. “I was sent by the Oracle to look after you.” Gone was her Lucian accent, replaced by a softer Tenebraen that made you take an involuntary step back.

“To spy on her?” Ravus came to your side, and one look up at him had you meeting a hard gaze he had aimed at the younger woman.

Her face seemed to redden further, impossibly. “To protect, sire.”

Your mind began to catch up to what was happening, and you shook your head. Her loyalty suddenly made sense, but it hadn’t been to _you._ She’d kept the Actor at bay to avoid scandal and had offered to _take care_ of Ignis when the worst had nearly happened. All of that had been on the Oracle’s behalf, not yours. Because your reputation didn’t need to be tarnished even more.

You ground your teeth a little. “To protect me or my perceived honor?”

She clasped her hands in front of her, keeping her shoulders square and appearing less and less like the woman you’d grown so familiar with in the past two months. “My only order was to keep you safe.”

When you didn’t respond, several beats of silence passed before Ravus seemed to grow impatient. “Return to Tenebrae.”

She shook her head. “I have to protect—”

“From what? Me? She is perfectly safe.”

Her brows arched, her mouth forming a small “o” for a second before she said, “Sire, you know it’s my duty—”

“Your diligence is acknowledged.” Ravus kept his commanding tone, but the edges of it softened just the slightest. “Should I return to Fenestala Manor, I will ensure you’re rewarded.”

She appeared as surprised as you felt at what he said. Her lips parted, words ready to leave her but falling away with a resigned nod. She bowed, first to him, then to you, and left the diner without another word.

Through the large diner windows, you watched her peel out of the car lot, going back the way you’d come. When she disappeared down the road, the forest obscuring her retreating vehicle, you looked up at Ravus. “Why wouldn’t you go back to the manor?”

His expression offered you nothing, indifference being the winning emotion. “Who’s to know what the future may hold.”

Your lip curled in a light scowl. “Don’t be cryptic.”

He walked past you, then, going toward the exit without waiting for you. “Shouldn’t we be on our way?”

You didn’t immediately follow, eyeing him in a quiet rage. Just like he’d walked into the diner, all assumptions and nonchalance, he walked out without a care, his hands finding purchase in the pockets of his leather jacket. Just who in the hell did he— You hated this. You hated not knowing what was going on in his head.

He’d already been a difficult person to read. Had he really asked to kiss you just that morning? Now he didn’t seem to know what he wanted, or he had no intention of sharing his plans with you, if he had any to speak of.

—

You recounted everything over, trying to understand where the disconnect had happened. Then, you began to wonder where there _hadn’t_ been a misunderstanding. For all the common ground and similar wavelengths you shared with Ravus, the engagement had been a train wreck from the beginning.

Frustration had you speeding on the highway, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, teeth clenched. Ravus didn’t appear at all bothered, but you were barely registering his presence due to his silence and the extreme tunnel vision you had for the road ahead.

When it became too much, the promise of a panic attack burning its way up your chest, you slowed and pulled off onto the roadside. The Disc of Cauthess sat in the far distance, fields and forest between you and the impact site.

You turned off the car and got out, a hand rubbing at your temple. You needed to take a walk. A breath of fresh air, maybe. Things were absolutely fucked, and it was your fault. Yours and the man now getting out of the car after you. Two huge idiots, you thought. What a match you made. A man who looked like he would rather die than smile, and you, the biggest fool on Eos.

You rounded the car and opened the trunk. Behind your luggage was the locked box that held your gun. You pulled it out and put it on the ground, squatting to open it and take out the contents with care. Rising to full height, you loaded the gun with forceful movements on your hand, the butt of your palm clicking it into place.

Your skin prickled with anxiety, and your chest pulled tight. Looking out at the nearby fields, you saw nothing you could use for target practice. Thoughts all over the place, you held the gun with both hands and took a deep breath.

This was fine. If Prompto were here he’d tell you this was the exact wrong time to be shooting. You stood there and calmed yourself, your anxiety unchanging in how quickly your thoughts flitting about in your brain, but your racing heart evened out somewhat with each measured breath.

You must’ve looked insane to Ravus right now.

Just when you were about to put it away and get back onto the road, he walked around the car with the plastic bag you’d gotten from the convenience store in Hammerhead. You’d been using it to hold your trash, mostly empty and discarded bottles of Jetty’s. He walked past you, into the field and began to place the bottles along a large rock that jutted up from the ground.

Understanding what he was doing but not quite why, you met him with a blank stare when he turned around to look at you. The unwanted panic that had begun rebuilding in your chest and mind halted for a second, lulling when he walked across the overgrown grass and covered your hands with his, lifting the weapon to aim it at the bottles.

You waited until he let go to squeeze the trigger. The recoil was harder than you remembered, hurting your wrists a little. You adjusted your grip and unloaded the entire clip, hitting all of the bottles between a fair amount of missed shots. It clicked when it was empty, and the sound of it resonated with the spent feeling that suddenly overtook you.

You lowered the gun, holding it in one hand as your arms dropped to your sides. Then, you looked at Ravus, meeting his eyes in the late afternoon sunlight.

“I almost slept with Ignis.” It tumbled out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. “The day your mom retracted her blessing, he visited me. We kissed and— and I had my hand on his—” You swallowed, unable to say it. You couldn’t believe you’d said this much already, but it needed to be out there if you wanted full honesty. “Anyway, I thought you should know.”

Ravus remained quiet, the hard line of his jaw tightening.

You didn’t know why you’d just sprung that on him. Your emotions were such a jumble, and that hadn’t been the wisest place to start in attempt to reconcile with him. Forcing yourself to look away, you walked over to the case and carefully put down your gun next to the harness.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that. Everything was going wrong, and…” You rose to your feet and began to pace the length between the open trunk of the car and where he stood, twisting the hem of your shirt in your hands. “You always know exactly what to say or do. I began to wonder if— if I’d ever done anything for you that could even compare. So I was _trying,_ and it kept backfiring.” You stopped pacing to look at him. “I was afraid, so I ran away. But that doesn’t mean you had to run, too. We—”

“Of course it does,” he interrupted. “I’ll not sit idly by while you are unhappy.”

You blinked, eyes unable to focus on any specific feature of his face. His hair was tousled by the wind and his expression was hard, something close to but not quite a scowl. He walked your way, and you had to look away, your fingers twisting into the fabric of your shirt even tighter. He was incredible, looking like that and saying such a sweet thing, and you’d just admitted you’d been unfaithful, in a way.

His hands gently pried at yours, and they opened, fingers tense from squeezing so tightly. “I didn’t run, as you say. I shed my duties in favor of providing you with an alternative life to the one you were being pushed toward.”

You looked down at your hands, tense in his. The callouses —what kind of prince had calloused hands, anyway?— were as long familiar and comforting as the hands themselves. When you looked up at him, he maintained eye contact, his soft intensity pinning you in place.

“It could be this way for us,” he said, letting go of a hand and leaning down as he brushed fingers through your hair. He pushed a lock behind an ear, his fingertips lightly grazing the side of your face. “I’m repentant that you felt alone while under so much duress. I was consumed with the task of removing what was hurting you, not realizing I’d been neglecting you.”

You brought a hand up to his, intent to pull it away from your face. He couldn’t be touching you right now. It would only distract from the heavy thoughts and the important conversation. But your hand fell away after but a moment, letting him linger there. He spoke again before you could organize your thoughts enough to say anything.

“We have been, from the moment you chose to be at my side, a team.” His hand came to your chin, holding you there gently as if you could even look away. “I want for that to continue, in whatever capacity will make you happy.” He leaned closer, his mouth only a breath from yours. “We could be this way, doing what we’ve been for the past day. No marriage. No obligations. Just you and I.”

You resisted the urge to lean forward and close the distance. “What exactly are you suggesting? Estranging yourself and becoming common?”

He nodded. “I would give up all that I know.”

You sucked in a quick breath, backing away from him and out of his hold. This was both shocking and distressing to hear from the man you considered the most stable person in your life.

“Ravus, do you even realize what you’ve been doing? Helping people, healing, and blessing things.” You arched your brows, raising your hands as if to make a point. “You’re an Oracle. You’ve been Oracle-ing all over the kingdom. I don’t think you know _how_ to step down.”

His eyes widened in slow realization, his hands falling to his sides.

“Besides, that’s not what I want.” You touched his chest, hand splaying flat. For a second, it had been with the intent to push him farther away, but your palm feeling the strong, steady thump of his heart made you pause. You looked from your hand up to his face. “I want to marry you and become whatever noble thing I have to be. I’ll be fine because I have you. We’re a team, like you said.”

When he gave a slow blink, his mismatched eyes lingering on your face before the smallest smile curled a corner of his lip, you felt the last of your anxiety disappear. The wind blew through the forest, rustling the tree branches and leaves. It met you both, blowing through the tall grass nearby and the silvery locks of his hair.

He placed a hand over yours, and when he leaned down this time, you gave in. Lips meeting his chastely, you grabbed a fistful at the chest of his nice sweater and drew yourself closer. His free hand came to your waist, lips prying yours apart and tongue delving in to meet yours.

The stubble on his face felt like sandpaper when he deepened the kiss, something you didn’t mind at first. Too enraptured by having the taste of him again, it wasn’t until you were drawing back that you frowned at the light sting on your skin from the contact.

You lifted your free hand and touched his jaw. He closed his eyes, tilting his head into your touch. You softened at the sight and the warmth of him against you. Then, you cleared your throat and said, “You’ve gotta shave.”

Eyes opening, he peered down at you. The look stretched for several long moments, then he brought his hands up, letting you go to cup your face and pull you in for another. You protested for a moment, sputtering before melting into him all over again. His mouth tasted of the salty fries he’d had at the Crow’s Nest, and it was eager against your own.

A car honked as it passed, and you laughed into the kiss, breaking away from Ravus. This needed to stop. You’d just been nearing a panic attack, and this was the first time you’d _ever_ gotten a kiss from someone after admitting you’d kissed someone else. You both needed to slow down; this was too important to rush.

His hands followed you, but you backed out of reach and rubbed a hand down your face. “Let’s get to Lestallum, pa—” You bent down and closed the weapon case, lifting and putting it in the trunk. The nickname was delayed, feeling good as it came out for the first time in such a long time. “Papa-gâteau.”

—

Despite autumn being in full effect with its chill evenings and breezy days, Lestallum remained sweltering. Ravus insisted on carrying both your bags to the hotel, which meant you kept looking back at him to see a sweat sheen on his displeased face. You knew he hated being hot and overheated, but you were thankful to not have to carry your luggage up all of the stairs out of the car lot at the lookout point and through the city.

When you arrived to the counter in the lobby, you rested a hand on his arm and gave him a smile he didn’t return. The concierge walked you through the fact that, due to the festival happening this week, there was but only one room left. You perked up at the thought of a festival, waving off the suggestion that you’d want to have separate rooms.

“We’ll take the one room,” you said. “What festival is going on?”

They looked between you and Ravus. “Miss, it only has one bed.”

Your brows met in confusion. “The festival?”

Ravus made an irritated sound, holding a card out past you. “We will take the room. Now answer her questions.”

You’d just missed the festival, apparently. You didn’t think Ravus would care much for it anyway because it was in celebration of the Lucian kings. Now that you were paying attention to more than Ravus, peering around at the displays of King Regis and even a few of Noctis. Every single one looked more awkward than the last, and it had you grinning on your way to the room.

You threw yourself on the bed, watching Ravus put down the bags and rub his neck. The warm lighting lit him in low yellows, the sweat on his exposed collar shining on his skin. Making yourself look away, you dipped into your bag for the remainder of your weed. It was only one, a joint that would last for an evening. You needed it for what you were doing tomorrow.

Picking out the little sealed bag, you hopped up from the bed and passed Ravus for the balcony. You left the door cracked open when you stepped out, leaning your elbows on the railing and slipping the smoke between your lips. This would be the last one. You deserved a small high, something to push you past your anxious thoughts over the unknown you were to meet the next day. Just this last one, and you would restart your sobriety again. You’d done it so many times already; this was nothing.

The lighter wouldn’t give at first, as expected, and you grumbled as it dug into your thumb, finally turning over and lighting a small flame. One drag into it, and Ravus joined you on the balcony. He rested hands on the railing, looking out into the night. The view wasn’t great, mostly blocked by the building next door, but the alley was short, and the streetlights below lit up the little quad with the fountain just outside the hotel’s entrance.

When he looked at you, you considered him in return, taking a long pull from the joint before offering it to him. He was an occasional smoker; maybe there was solidarity to be found. Still, it surprised you when he took it from you without hesitation.

You were further surprised when he immediately snuffed it out on the brick siding and flicked it out into the alley below. Blinking, you pushed yourself off from the railing.

“Do you know how expensive that was?” Was the first thing you asked even though you hadn’t paid for it yourself. You jabbed him in the side, annoyed but only mildly so. “Why’d you do that? _You_ smoke, you hypocrite.”

Unbothered by your hand digging into his side, he calmly took it and said, “Whatever you think you need such drugs for, simply tell me, and I will relieve you of that stress.”

You pulled your hand from his, grabbing the railing and huffing. He couldn’t do anything to help aside from _be there._

“I’m going to meet my dad tomorrow,” you said, focusing your eyes forward to keep from getting vertigo from being so high up. A mellow feeling overtook you, finally hitting you, though it wouldn’t be very strong since Ravus had to be a jerk and tossed what had remained of your vice.

He was silent next to you, the soft sounds of the city —the street performers were still playing music from the plaza— creating a comfortable backdrop. You looked at him, and he touched your hand. His fingers worked underneath your grip, loosening it from the railing until he was holding your hand. He led you inside, slowly but with certainty, and took you to the bathroom.

When he let go of your hand, you tried to lean into him. You were somewhere comfortable with him again. You could _touch_ and be _close_ again. But he was having none of it. He avoided your lean, bending to turn on the bath.

“Undress.”

The gentle command had you listening. You had been driving all day and a bath sounded amazing. He stopped the drain while you pulled your shirt over your head. His hand made a pass through the steamy water that slowly filled the tub, the other adjusting the taps until he nodded in satisfaction. By the time he righted himself, you were in your undergarments, your fingers working to unclasp your bra.

“Join me?”

Your request was hopeful, accompanied by arched brows and searching eyes. He raked his gaze over you, a soft pink coming to his face when you slipped the last of your clothes off. With a shake of his head, he reached up and smoothed a hand over your hair, kissing your forehead.

“Next time,” he said, leaving you in the bathroom. “Allow yourself to relax.”

Being miffed over the rejection didn’t last long. The water soothed your muscles and calmed your mind. You fell asleep in the bath, waking up to the sound of the cool water draining and the feeling of a hand brushing your damp hair out of your face.

Eyes lidded, you smiled weakly at Ravus and let him help you into standing. He wrapped you in a towel and left for the other room. You followed, not bothering to properly dry off. He’d drawn the blankets back on the bed and turned the tv on, muted on a channel that was playing what looked to be an old movie.

You took off the towel and dried your hair with it, watching the screen to see if you recognized the film at all. You didn’t in the slightest, and that piqued your interest, however sleepy you were. Going through the motions, you crawled into bed after checking everything off on your nightly routine. A fair amount of comfort settled over you, something genuine and unrelated to the smoke you’d had.

Ravus turned all of the lights off, taking off his shirt before climbing in next to you. Unmuting the tv, he kept the lamp on his bedside table on and leaned back against the headboard, sitting over the blankets.

You halfheartedly tried to follow the plot of the unknown movie, leaning over to rest against him. Immediately remembering that he’d avoided your lean earlier, you shifted away. Maybe he wasn’t ready for any sort of intimacy beyond the kisses he’d taken on the roadside.

You stilled when he lifted an arm and pulled you against him. His hand slid down your arm, catching at your bare waist. You pulled the blanket higher over yourself and burrowed into his side. You felt invincible again in the safety of his arms.

—

The most recent letter from your biological father led you to a house deep in the city, not far from the large open air market area. The place, from the outside at least, looked as run down as the rest of the buildings on the street. The brick was a muddy red, and the ground was littered and wet from the rain that had fallen earlier in the morning. So, all in all, it was like any other part of the town.

You hesitated before knocking on the door. Ravus stood on the stoop behind you, saying nothing even when you looked over your shoulder at him nervously. You’d only entertained the thought of meeting your father once, long ago under very different circumstances. Why were you so nervous now? You weren’t looking to make a connection. Just a few answers, and then you planned to bounce at the first opportunity.

You’d thought briefly of wearing your strap to show off your gun. He was a hunter, after all. But then you realized how dumb that was. You weren’t there to impress him. Again, you told yourself as you waited, all you needed were some simple answers!

The door opened, three people greeting you at once. First was the perplexed face of a man, second being the small child he held in an arm, and the third that of another little human who stared up at you.

“Uh,” was all you got out, closing your mouth and clenching your hands at your sides.

The man, middle aged but definitely the same “Lance” from the photo in the dossier you had back in the hotel, looked from you to Ravus and back. Forcing out your name in a greeting, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other as the man’s eyes widened.

Before he could speak, the kid at your knees asked, “Who are you?”

You looked down at him, taking note of his moogle themed shirt and the unruliness of his hair. It was adorable, but you were deterred by the unfamiliarity of his… smallness. The man put a hand on the boy's shoulder, ushering him to go back inside while he kept his surprised expression trained on you.

“Come in,” he said, backing away with the even smaller child in his arm. “Let me get you both something to drink.”

You shook your head, stepping inside and instinctively reaching behind yourself for Ravus. Your hand found his, and he held it as he came into the house after you, closing the door.

“No, that’s okay. I’m just visiting quickly.”

Lance laughed, waving for you to follow as he walked down the hallway. “You come to meet me and call it a quick visit? I can’t say I blame you.”

There were photos along the walls, covering every inch of space. Family portraits, photos of the children at various stages of similar smallness, and pictures of Lance with who you guessed must’ve been his wife. He led you into a sitting room, which was littered with toys. Moving some out of the way with a foot, he motioned an arm at a sofa.

“Please, sit,” he said as he lowered the smaller child into some contraption on the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

Not knowing what else to do, you sat down, gingerly picking up a few plastic blocks from the cushion and setting them aside for Ravus to sit next to you. The older child stared at you with unflinching curiosity. The other, a baby that couldn’t be old enough to speak, had already lost interest. You were really glad now that you hadn’t come strapped.

Ravus didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing your knuckles as he stared back at the kid. You felt the need to elbow him, but the boy spoke before you could reprimand him for attempting to intimidate a child, however unintentionally.

“You have hair like an old man.”

To your surprise, Ravus didn’t hesitate to respond. “I am an old man.”

The kid nodded, clearly agreeing.

Ignoring the prolonged stare of the boy, you looked around the place with your own sense of curiosity. No trophies of his larger, prouder hunts. No weapons or unhealthy stacks of cup noodles that marked a busy hunter’s life. This wasn't at all what you'd expected so far.

Lance came back into the room, a bottle of Jetty’s in each hand. You’d drank so much recently that you had to fight a frown when he handed one to you. Ravus, on the other hand, had no qualms with making things awkward.

“No, thank you,” he said, raising his free hand, palm forward, to reject the drink.

Again, you almost elbowed him, but Lance shrugged and began to drink it himself. He sat in a chair opposite you, the baby on the floor between you and the boy staring. Still.

“I’m Lance,” he said, as if he needed to. As if you hadn’t come here knowing exactly who you were looking for. He looked to Ravus, a smile coming to his face. “You look serious. Who are you, her bodyguard?”

Ravus straightened his posture needlessly. “Ravus. I’m her fiancé.”

Your face warmed unintentionally at the way he just _said_ it. You hadn’t taken any time to talk it through, which you planned to do once this ordeal was over, but his open admittance made you feel more encouraged than enraged at such a bold assumption of your relationship.

Lance nodded, looking at you again. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what to say right now. You’d think I’d be more prepared for this, but I’m kinda shocked.”

He drank more of the soda, and you did the same, feeling the same, thinking the same. No matter how many times you might’ve imagined this meeting when you’d been younger, you weren’t, in all actuality, prepared for this. It didn’t seem to matter that you’d tried to amp yourself up as you’d crossed the entire kingdom to get to him.

“Since you’re here now,” he said once he realized you weren’t going to say anything. “What can I do for you?”

You’d drained the bottle, the remnants of the drink sticky and sweet in your mouth. It left a weird grittiness on your teeth that you were suddenly overly aware of. Funny what the mind fixated on in anxious moments. You worried your lip before giving him an answer. “Family medical history. Any information would be great.”

Another nod, and he was standing. “I can get that. We’ll have to go to my storage unit to get the records.” His gaze went to Ravus. “You good with kids?”

Ravus’ hand tightened over your own. “Pardon?”

Lance laughed, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and said quietly, “Stop staring. It’s rude.” Then, he spoke to Ravus. “My wife should be home from work soon. It would only be ten minutes at most that you’d have to keep ‘em alive.”

Letting go of your hand as a heavy frown came to his face, Ravus stood up. “You would leave them with a stranger?”

You stood up just so you wouldn’t be the only one sitting. With a look between Ravus, the boy, and Lance, you realized what he was suggesting. Of course Ravus couldn’t be trusted to know how to look after kids. The thought of him attempting to hold the baby was amusing on its own.

“Can’t go wrong trusting an Oracle,” Lance said, letting go of his son’s shoulder. The boy finally looked away, bending down to pick up a book laying among the child detritus that littered the floor.

It shouldn’t have been such a surprise that he knew who Ravus was. Keeping a low profile, to the prince at least, meant wearing common clothes and giving only his first name. It wasn’t all that deep a cover aside from letting him remain elusive to Aranea, probably staying in Hammerhead in part because he knew that would be the last place the commodore would visit lest she get distracted by the mechanic.

Turning to Ravus, you asked, “You’ll be okay for a few minutes without me, right?”

Ravus sent you a blank look. “Of course. Am I suddenly the child in question?”

With a roll of your eyes, you followed Lance out of the house, anticipating some grief once you returned. Those kids were probably going to eat him alive.

—

The storage unit wasn’t far away. Just a few streets over from Lance’s neighborhood. The walk there was silent, and you thought the entire trip would be that way until you were stepping through the dusty storage unit and listening to him say the occasional thing that would elicit a short answer out of you.

“I saw your name a couple years ago. On some independent film. I almost told everyone I knew—” He stopped himself, laughing awkwardly. “I almost bragged about it to people. It was about irrational fears, it think?”

You smiled at the book in your hand, sliding it back into the box you’d pulled it from. “That was my first movie. My first real one, anyway.”

“Funny how I came across it,” he said. “I gotta say… I knew there’d be a chance you’d show up at my door, but I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

You peered down at a painting wedged between boxes. “With a prince?”

He shook his head, his smile affable. “Nah. All grown up, I mean. I thought I’d see you sooner, comin’ to me for answers I didn’t have.” He picked up a box labeled _important_ , looking a bit triumphant. “But you just came for somethin’ simple.”

The box was dusty, and you took it from him when he began to cough. He followed after you out of the storage unit. When he clicked the lock and made sure it was secure, he took the box from you.

“I’m glad you didn’t need me.” He led the way back, walking down a dirty alley. “How’s your mom, by the way?”

You avoided some wet trash on the ground as you followed him out into a larger road. The question threw you off. “Great. She’s doing great.”

“That’s good.”

“Yep.”

The Lestallum heat rose from the ground into the muggy air. Your hair was taking the brunt of it, becoming frizzy at the ends and sticking to your neck. The walk back was silent from there, for the most part, amicable enough that you didn’t feel like forcing yourself to say something just to fill the time.

He didn’t assume a level of familiarity that would make you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t treating you like he would a stranger. There was an unspoken understanding that this would probably be the only time you’d ever need something from him.

—

You stalled just inside the sitting room of Lance’s house while he walked in and placed the box down. He hugged a woman, his wife you recognized from all the pictures. Seeing her wasn’t what had you coming to a pause.

Ravus, sitting now on the floor with the sofa at his back, had the baby in his hands. He said something in Tenebraen that made it laugh, its feet kicking against his thighs as it tried and failed to stand. Ravus himself wasn’t smiling, but the words he said came out soothing. Most surprising of all was the boy, who sat behind him, twisting Ravus’ hair into incomprehensible knots. You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape.

Ravus looked up at you for a moment, a wince as his hair was pulled in the boy’s hands from the movement. You were shocked he was letting anyone touch his hair. Hadn’t that been your special thing? Maybe he cared less about it now that he’d let it grow out more, the ends of it frayed and uneven.

“Be still,” the kid said, and you did laugh then, at the flat look Ravus sent to the baby.

You went to the boy’s side, sitting next to him and admiring he braids he’d done to Ravus’ hair. Most of them were okay, but a few looked like they would be painful to take out later.

Leaning down a little, you smiled at the baby and whisper, “Good job, papa-gâteau.”

He huffed lightly. “This is nothing. I’ve contended with masses of children in my travels.”

Was he bragging or complaining? You weren’t sure. But the easy way that he dealt with this made you feel strange, an unfamiliar prideful feeling budding in your chest.

“I’m surprised she’s not crying,” you said, booping the baby on the nose. She laughed, shifting in Ravus’ hold as drool began to droop down her mouth. From the wet spots on the thighs of his pants, she’d already drooled on him several times.

Unperturbed, Ravus said, “ _Babies have no fear._ ”

Like before, the foreign language came out smooth like a balm, and the baby’s wide eyes focused on him again. You were drawn out of the exchange when Lance’s wife introduced herself. She hoped you stayed for lunch. You awkwardly looked at Ravus who was, of course, unhelpful and silent.

“Sure,” you said, shrugging although you were immediately regretting it. You tried to speak up, to lie and say that you were actually busy later, but she was already disappearing into another part of the house.

Looking from Lance, who’d begun to rifle through the box, to the kid finishing off the last messy tangle of a braid in Ravus’ hair, you couldn’t help but feel like you were intruding. This wasn’t your family, and it never would be. Not out of bitterness, but mere honesty. Your family was in Insomnia and —you leaned down to rest your chin on Ravus’ shoulder and grin at the baby— right here, in this contradictory man.

—

Other than a risk of high blood pressure when you were older, the medical records had nothing ominous to tell you. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. What kind of facility would accept the sperm donation of a man with extreme health issues that could be genetically transferable, and what kind of couple would see that and think _hey, his genes seem perfect, we’ll take it_ without pause or objection?

Prompto's father didn’t count.

You were relieved at the news. Now you could go back to Tenebrae and shove the facts into the face of anyone who brought up your mental health struggles. They were your own, and they wouldn’t affect your children. Besides, you thought as you helped put away the contents of the box, having kids was a _long_ way off. Being with Ravus, you’d accepted that you’d have them some day. But you had at least a decade before the pressure should really set in, and you planned to ride that out.

Ravus lifted the baby up, the disaster of his hair really throwing off his serious expression. “ _Is this amusing_?” he asked, and the baby laughed. “ _Yes, of course it is._ ”

Done with Ravus’ hair, the boy began to ask him a slew of questions. Like what an Oracle was and what language he was speaking. It was as if you didn’t exist. Each one was given a succinct answer, and you spent the time making faces at the baby in attempt to make it laugh. You didn’t seem to have the skills Ravus did.

“Does that mean you can heal this?” The boy pointed at a scab on his knee. He picked at it absently with an expectant look at Ravus.

“How did that come about?”

“I was running, and I fell down. It hurt real bad.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

“Let it heal on its own, then.”

You looked between them, the boy pouting and Ravus keeping his attention on the tiny thing in his hands.

“Will you heal it next time?”

Ravus looked at the kid. “No.”

The boy pouted further, and you covered your grin with a hand. You had to admit to yourself that the kid looked like you when he made that face. It was kind of creepy, actually.

“Why does it even happen at all?” he asked, picking at the scab again.

“Think of it this way,” Ravus said, lifting the baby again. “If you don’t skin your knees, perhaps you aren’t running quickly enough.”

It seemed to go over the kid’s head, but you understood the platitude. Pain is worth taking on, especially when it’s for our greatest efforts.

“I’m the fastest in my class,” the boy said, suddenly proud.

Ravus nodded as if this were the right thing to say. “All the better that you learn.”

When it was time to eat, Ravus gave the baby up to her mother. You couldn’t look at him without laughing because of his hair, and his deep frown at your amusement only made it funnier to you somehow. He began to remove the tie of one plait after lunch, and you stopped him.

“Don’t be rude. He worked so hard on it.” This was said in a whisper and a suppressed giggle.

Ravus sent you a hard look, slowly letting it go and dropping his hand. He knew you were enjoying this way too much. You were to leave soon, and you couldn’t wait for the good people of Lestallum to see his innovative hairstyle.

Lance sort of lingered when you were on your way out. You weren’t planning to ever see him again, and that fact didn’t feel as bittersweet as you’d expected. When you hugged, you kept it short and smiled awkwardly at one another. Ravus shook his hand, barely having said a word to him the entire visit.

On the walk back to the hotel, you took the scenic route, in no rush whatsoever. The city was humid and steamy, the sun glaring down on you between buildings. Despite this, your hand found Ravus’, and so long as you didn’t look directly at him, you didn’t burst into laughter.

Neither of you spoke, wandering through the market and down busy streets that were still being cleaned up from the festival. You were decompressing from meeting your father, mentally going over everything that happened and how casual it all seemed to be. It went so much better than you’d expected.

Ravus began to take out the plaits when you neared the hotel, using his free hand to pull the ties out and his fingers to work the braids apart. He hissed when struggling with one, and you made him stop in the hotel lobby so you could free his fingers from the knot he’d somehow gotten them into. Finally back in the hotel room, you made him sit, reprimanding him between bouts of laughter.

Your fingers worked to separate the knotted locks of silvery hair, going slow to keep the attention gentle. You liked when he sighed softly at your touch.

“How did this happen, anyway?” you asked, moving on to the next plait. This one proved difficult, the hair badly knotted at the ends.

“He requested to touch my hair. I told him only you were permitted because you knew how to braid.” Ravus sighed again, this time heavier. “He told me he was capable of braiding, and I didn’t believe him. I made the mistake of allowing him to prove it.”

Frowning at the knot you were now realizing you _weren’t_ going to be able to undo, you asked, “Were you a little distracted with the baby?”

Ravus didn’t respond. He was seated on a few of the hotel pillows on the floor as you sat on the foot of the bed, so when he squared his shoulders, you felt it against your knees. You leaned over, giving up on the braid and bracing your hands on his shoulders to look at his face. He turned his head, meeting your eyes, and you nearly fell forward, leaning a bit too far. But his shoulders were broad, keeping you steady.

“I didn’t know you were good with kids,” you said, your amusement at an all time high. What you were able to unknot from Ravus’ hair was now frizzy and sticking at odd angles. His usually silky hair hadn’t been safe from the humidity either, it seemed. “It’s cute. I couldn’t believe you knew how to hold a baby.”

“People ask me to hold their children anywhere I go,” he said, one of his hands coming up to his hair to feel what you’d done. “They believe it to be a blessing, letting their child be held by an Oracle.”

You stopped his hand from wandering back to the impossible braid. You were stalling on telling him you’d have to cut it out. “Is it a blessing?”

His large fingers curled over yours. “No, but I allow them to think so. It makes them happy.”

You had nothing to say to that, a smile coming to you that you pressed to his cheek in a quick kiss. Hopping up from the bed, you went to the hotel phone and called to have scissors delivered up to you. Ravus stared at you once you were off the phone, and you rose a brow.

“What?”

“Shears? For my hair?” His brows drew together into a hard line above searching eyes, his hand coming back up to the mess of his hair.

You gave him an apologetic look. “Yeah, sorry, papa-gâteau. It’s unsalvageable.” Drumming your fingers on the desk, you tried not at laugh at how put out he was over this. “Should I call them to bring up more stuff and really have them question what we’re up to in here?”

He dropped his hand. “Such as?”

You began to count on your fingers. “Rope, candles, a block of cheese. That kinda stuff.”

With a thoughtful look as if you had been serious in your question, Ravus slowly shook his head. “Rope is certainly… an idea for later.”

Swallowing thickly, you spent the next quarter of an hour blustering around the room with a red face and repressed questions about what Ravus could possibly be referring to. As much as you wanted to dive right into _that_ fun discussion, you were still processing the good feelings you’d gotten from the pleasant morning you’d had. When the scissors came, you were able to push those thoughts to the further recesses of your mind.

It was a careful process bringing Ravus back to normal. You thought his rough, _is he a hunter or a model?_ look had been great, but you were guilty of loving Vanilla Ravus. His smooth face, his frown, his crossed arms, and now his hair being its proper length. You weren’t a hairdresser by any means so you did your best, and by the way he touched the newly cut ends of it in approval, you thought that was good enough for now.

You kept picking off stray strands of hair from his shirt as you walked through Lestallum to an outdoor cafe near the market. It had been one of Prompto’s favorites, and you couldn’t wait to send him a picture of yourself eating the spicy skewers he liked.

You were in an impossibly good mood, a direct change from what you’d been feeling for months now. Ravus kept looking at you every time you reached up to get rid of yet another stray hair. You hadn’t prepared for cutting his hair, not having done it before, and only realized afterward how the stuff seemed to get everywhere and on everything.

“You need to clean up,” you said as you took a seat at a table. “We should shower when we go back to the Leville.”

Ravus looked at you, unblinking. You thought for a moment that he didn’t appreciate you saying that out loud in the middle of the cafe, but the bustling market just on the other side of a short fence kept your voice from carrying very far. His hand found yours over the red and white checkered tablecloth.

“Agreed. Today has been far too humid and smothering.” He picked up a menu with his other hand, but his gaze remained fixed on you. “Although, I do intend for us to sweat much more when we return.”

You didn’t even give your menu a glance, already knowing what you were ordering. The stickiness of your own sweaty parts was uncomfortable now that he’d brought attention to it. Giving him a confused look, you asked, “You do?”

He hummed with a little nod of his head, his fingers sliding between yours. His expression was far too serious, suddenly. “I’m going to take you.”

You blinked. “Take me where?”

Ravus lowered his menu, never looking at it. “I’m going to have you, ma crevette. Any way we should like. We’re alone here. No interruptions.”

Immediately flustered, you tightened your grip on his hand. Why hadn’t he made a move just earlier? You supposed it would’ve been an awkward shift with how much fuss and amusement you were having over his hair. Now he was staring at you with a gentle intensity that held you in place.

Lifting your free hand, you had to clear your throat and force your gaze from his when the proprietor walked over. “I’d like a skewer to go.”

The walk back involved oddly shy side glances as you ate the salty meat and giggled at the seriousness Ravus was giving this despite the twinge of pink that had come to his face. It must’ve been the heat. His hand had left yours to rest at your lower back, easing you through the narrower places and holding you close even when the streets widened out.

When you traversed a narrower alley and his hand moved, catching at your waist, you slowed to a stop and turned to him. Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him down to meet you in a kiss. Meant to be chaste, a tease _just because,_ you didn’t move your lips and drew back after a beat. But he followed, and the remains of the skewer fell from your hand as you were backed against a building. The siding was warm, heated from the sun at an earlier point in the day. You rested on it as Ravus leaned into you, his arm at your waist pulling you flush against him.

His mouth pressed yours in smooth, practiced motions. Your free hand came to his nape, urging the kiss deeper. He held you in that alleyway, people passing unnoticed, and consumed you with one kiss after another that steamed you up more than the muggy air surrounding you.

—

The hotel room was cool when you returned, a comfort from the evening heat outside that bled into the open air of the lobby below. You kicked off your shoes, watching Ravus expectantly. He removed his own, crossing the room for the bathroom as he pulled his shirt over his head. When he stood in the doorway between the rooms, he worked at the clasp of his pants and looked at you over his shoulder.

“Second thoughts?”

A small laugh stumbled out of you as you quickly shook your head. “No way.” You followed him into the bathroom, undressing with fumbling motions due to your excitement. Why were you so nervous? You’d done this _so many times_ before. Stepping into the shower with him had you running your hands self consciously over yourself. He was absurdly perfect, all of his hard work showing in every defined line of his body.

You placed a hand on his chest, forcing your gaze upward to meet his. The hot water coursed over him, wetting his hair and sliding down his shoulders and over your hand. You leaned upward, meeting him in a kiss, this one much softer than what you’d just displayed to the public.

His hands held your face, each kiss punctuated by a whisper that was too quiet to hear over the running water. Gripping at his shoulders, you wanted to deepen it and invite him in. But he kept it at this pace, holding you in place, gentle movements of his lips and soft brushes of his thumbs over your cheeks. You melted into how serene his attention to you had become, but you could feel the underlying want. He’d said it so plainly before, and now you could feel it, very obvious, pressing against your stomach.

Sliding a hand downward, you caught a firm grip of it at the base. He moaned slightly into a kiss, which lingered on your mouth longer than the others. You pulled back to look at him. His eyes slowly opened, lips remaining parted as your hand began to smooth over his cock in easy motions. Dropping his hands to your waist, his fingers dug in. Hot water, steaming up the small space, ran over you both as he drew you closer.

His mouth a breath away from yours, you squeezed him and slid your hand over the shaft in a slow draw. You kissed him once, a light pressure before lowering yourself back to the flats of your feet. Your hand smoothed down his body as you lowered further, bending at the knees. You looked up at him right as your tongue left your mouth to flick over the tip.

His abs tensed and relaxed, a hand carefully brushing your wet hair behind an ear. You took him into your mouth, sucking lightly and letting your tongue tease at him. His hand tangled in your hair, drawing you deeper. You braced your free hand on his leg, using the other to massage what your mouth couldn’t reach.

It was so slick on your tongue, the skin a little salty but not unappealing. Your jaw began to grow sore when you took more and more of him in, the girth of it becoming more than you could comfortably wrap your mouth around. He didn’t press further, holding you there as you enjoyed the taste of him after such a long time apart.

His low moans bouncing off the wet walls fueled you to suck harder, your head quickening its motions to have him sliding in and out of your mouth in long, fast strokes. Your hand matched in speed, using the drool you’d spilled over to make it just the right amount of friction, and your tongue curled at the head, playing with the slit and teasing every spot it could reach.

Ravus tensed, his hand in your hair tightening. “I—”

It wasn’t much of a warning, which you took pride in, the feeling welling in you like the thick stickiness of his cum that filled your mouth. You swallowed, slowly pulling your head back to let him enjoy one last brush of your tongue before removing him. His cock twitched in the open air, messy from his finish. You slid your hand over it, collecting the cum and standing. You washed it off in the flow of water and smiled at Ravus’ flushed appearance. He was red from his face to his chest, the bloom of color stark against the paleness of his skin.

Although appearing breathless, he wasted no time pulling you to him again. He backed you against the tile, one arm holding you close while the other teased at a breast. His mouth was hot and wet on yours, no restraint for how you must’ve tasted like him. His hand slid lower, trailing down your side and sliding over your hip to squeeze for a moment.

He leaned into you, still painfully hard. His fingers delved between your thighs, caressing in soft, exploratory motions before pressing further. Mouth leaving yours to kiss down your neck, he slid a finger inside and curled it while his thumb circled your clit. Pleasure budded there, warm and as gentle as the attention he gave you.

He held you trapped between his body and the wall of the shower and slid a second finger in, picking up a solid rhythm. His teeth grazed your shoulder, his body arched over yours. Your legs grew weaker by the moment, the press of his fingers inside you rocking you with waves of pleasure that had you putting your full weight against him to not crumble.

You felt it growing close, the crest of something you hadn’t felt in so long approaching quickly.  You wanted to come around his cock, not his fingers. “Ravus,” you panted, your head rolling back against the tile.

He used that as a opportunity to bite at your neck, his tongue teasing and slick over your skin. His voice was a whisper in your ear when he spoke. “Come for me.”

You shook your head, but he grew even closer, a knee parting your legs and his hand working magic in your aching pussy. It hit you like a flame, burning powerfully right at your core. Your legs twitched and locked, your grip on him tightening, both your hands and elsewhere. Breaths were forced out of you through gritted teeth, your eyes opening as you came down from it.

He kept teasing you, sliding his fingers out but letting his thumb linger to play. It overstimulated, making you claw at his shoulders and moan into his wet skin as your head fell forward. You counted three breaths before looking up at him again. Your heart was racing, anticipation hitting you at the look on his face.

Eyes lidded, he leaned down to kiss you again. The hand that had brought you over the edge came up to your nape, holding you firmly in place while he thoroughly kissed you. His fingers caught in your hair, and you laughed breathily when it pulled a little as he drew back.

Your chest heaving in time with his, you rested back against the tile and looked up at him. His hands slid down your sides, past your hips and stopped at your thighs. He leaned down slightly, and you caught on to what he wanted. Strengthening your grip on his shoulders, you let him gain purchase at the back of your thighs to lift you up.

You felt the hard length of him slide against you, just enough to make you gasp at the feeling. He offered you a smile, kissing you with it once, twice before shifting his hold of you into something more comfortable. You rose a hand to run your fingers through his hair and push it out of his face. It was messy, much like your own, and it felt right. You trailed that hand down and over his body to what waited between you. Smoothing your hand over the soft skin of his cock, you positioned it against you.

Holding you against the tile, he was delightfully slow in filling you. It felt bigger than it looked somehow, invading you inch by inch. His arms began to shake a little when he was fully inside, flush to the base. You felt stretched and whole, hands gripping tightly at his shoulders. You tucked his silvery blond hair out of his face as he gazed down at you. His eyes were piercing, his little smile lost to concentration. The friction of him in you was burning, feeding an ache you hadn’t realized was so strong.

You slowly scratched his chest, digging your nails into his skin just enough to leave red streaks. He wasn’t moving, and his arms were still a bit shaky. “You okay?”

He arched downward, shifting inside you, and kissed you firmly. He still hadn’t moved with purpose but that small shift sent a hot spark of pleasure from your chest down to your toes. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer encouragingly. He broke the kiss and looked at you, the small smile back on his face. “A moment.”

You returned the smile, heat blooming across your face and down your chest at the sight of him. That look was so rare, and you loved it. “Take your time,” you assured him softly, resisting the urge to move your hips, not that you had much say. You were at his mercy, and even unmoving, he was touching a place inside that made your toes curl.

He thrust slowly, unhurried and far too patient with himself. You arched, eyes focused on his, mewling in appreciation at him taking you so carefully. Entering you had been more on the delicate side, but now he’d found a pace, sure and steady. You tucked yet another stray lock of hair behind his ear, bits of it falling out of place with every jerk of his body against yours. You dug your nails into his shoulders as his pace quickened, his cock driving into you harder.

“You feel divine,” he whispered with quiet breaths. It was peppered by the sound of your bodies meeting in a wet, measured slap of skin.

You lifted your head to kiss him, melting into his touch as he pressed you back against the wall. He shook you with every thrust, gentle words whispered into your skin as he enjoyed you. After he let out a long string of Tenebraean you didn’t fully understand, you gasped as he picked up the pace even further, drawing back to thrust in harder.

“Ravus,” you moaned, voice shuttered by the force of his body against yours. Your nails tore into his skin, scratching lines up his back and over his shoulders as you grasped for a tighter hold on him. He was flush against you, hips meeting yours in hard thrusts. “I love you.”

Being the first time you’d ever said those words during sex, you’d thought it would bring you out of it, but he held you closer, using that angle to push into you with a force that made you curl against him. Every way that you loved him came out in a litany of moans, punctuated by each time he thrust into you with greater intensity.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from going on forever, tightening your legs around him. He groaned, fingers digging into the tender skin at your thighs. Heavy breaths between you, he suddenly paused and buried himself deep. He moaned into your skin, shaking again for a moment. The water, now running cold, was probably part of the problem.

“Take me to bed,” you said, your lips brushing his wet collar.

His chest heaving against yours, he shifted his grip and hefted you away from the wall. Clinging to him, you let him turn off the shower and carry you from the room. Dripping water everywhere, you shivered a little in the cool air but relished the motions of him inside you with every step he took.

You fell back against the bed, the sheets still messy from when you’d crawled out of them that morning. The loss of his body heat and the feeling of him inside almost had you pouting. Water glistened his pale skin, shining in the evening sunlight that filtered through the curtains. You sat up on your elbows, admiring him and trying to squash your impatience.

He climbed onto the bed and leaned over you, his hands framing your face and lips meeting yours. It was sloppier than before, making you laugh a little at how ardent he was being despite the fact that he was totally falling apart. That was the whole point of sex, right? Aside from the obvious. You had been waiting for him to unravel like this for a very long time.

“Turn over,” he murmured against your mouth, kissing you once more before sitting back to nudge your side.

You didn’t question the order, rolling over onto your stomach. The bed creaked as he shifted around. You looked over your shoulder, blowing away strands of your hair that stuck to the corners of your mouth, but you couldn’t see him. His hands began at your thighs, a soft touch from calloused palms. He slid them smoothly upward, stopping at your backside to grasp, fingertips digging in lightly.

“You are incredible.” It was a strained whisper out of him, and you had to drop your head into the pillow to hide your smile. Had he just discovered himself to be an ass man? If this was his way of casually shifting into anal, you were going to kick him away. That was far too much for a first time, and he wasn’t— Ravus wasn’t exactly _small_. Actually, forget first times, that was _never_ happening.

He drew you out of your wandering thoughts with another whisper, this time in old Tenebraen, the stuff he only ever used when reading rites and old texts. The low timbre of his voice coupled with the mystery of his words sent a small thrill through you. His hands made a map of your body, tracing a slow path upward. You felt him graze his teeth along your lower back, a kiss that became a nip when you gave him a pleased moan.

He kept whispering soft words that you had no hope of understanding. All remained incomprehensible for a stretch of time as he kissed and caressed every part is you. All but the occasional _Astrals_ which told you all you needed to know. He was thanking the gods for your existence. As if you were a gift, or, in a far less romantic sense, a meal made just for him to devour.

You were aching for him to get back to it, but the moment you lowered a hand to touch yourself, he grabbed hold of your wrist. He held it against the bed near your head, and though you felt his breath, hot against your neck, you still couldn’t see his face.

“Have patience.”

Your eyes trailed a vein in his forearm, the muscles there shifting as he moved above you. His cock was hard against you, and the feel of how taut and heavy it was had you whimpering. He hadn’t seemed the type to tease like this.

“Y-you know damn well that’s impossible.”

He chuckled, and you felt it against your back, the vibration from his chest. Despite his words, he teased you with the tip of his cock a moment later. The brush of him against you, just barely entering before drawing away, was torture. You let out a whine, but that only made him do it again. You tried to move your hand, not caring to follow his rules if he was only going to tease, but you were pinned solidly beneath him. Luckily, he seemed wont to give in to your impatience.

Like before, he took his time, sliding into you until he was so deep, there was no room left for all he had to give. He let go of your wrist to tangle his fingers in your hair, moving it out of your face with a pull that had your head lifting from the bed, the slight sting of it curling in small traces of pain on your scalp that were swallowed by the aching pleasure of his cock teasing you with the slowest friction.

His tongue left a wet trail along your neck, and he bit your shoulder gently, a softer prelude to what you hoped he planned to do with you. You writhed underneath him and his unhurried, paced movements. With every press of him into you, he hit the perfect place inside. The one that made you dizzy, stars clouding the edges of your vision. _You_ knew the spot.

“You’ll be my undoing,” he breathed, drawing out to thrust back in harder. You moaned into the pillow, trying to listen to his quiet admittance over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. He gripped your waist with a hand, drawing you upward to meet him, his movements growing rougher. “I’ve wished for you—” He grunted, taking you harder with each thrust, the wet slap of him against you rocking off the walls of the hotel room. Words spilled from him in hot breaths, but it was lost on you. He could’ve been saying anything. Pleasure had never been so consuming.

He let go of your hair and lifted himself to his knees —and you along with him— his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. The sheets twisted and knotted as you rose to your knees, arching your back downward, shoulders meeting the bed. Ironic that you’d use the yoga he’d originally taught you as a distraction from sex to take his cock so fully.

His position was slightly awkward, made more so because of his relentless pace. It rocked tremors of pleasure down your body, and you struggled a little to shift your legs together. He seemed to understand, slowing and moving his leg out of your way but never leaving you. Your thighs were sticky and slick, sliding together as easily as he had into you. You knew you’d be tighter this way and basked in the low groan he let out at the change.

His grasp on your hips tightened, drawing you back on him in a hard jerk. You moaned his name into the pillow, shuddering as he began a new rhythm. Ravus fucked you like nothing else mattered. Thoughts filtered through your mind unbidden and messy, incoherent because it was impossible to think through the bliss. When had anyone ever ran you through so roughly without you having to beg for it?

“Fuck,” you moaned, shoving the pillow off the bed to brace yourself on your elbows, head resting on your forearm.

He arched over you, such a difference in size that he had slight difficulty biting your shoulder this time, his cock slamming into you like his very existence depended on it. His hand delved into the locks of your hair, catching a grip that made you arch and lift your head. The sting at your scalp drew a low hiss out of you, his body rocking against yours morphing it into a moan.

He kissed the red, angry bite mark he’d left on your skin and grazed his teeth down your shoulder, pausing to grind into you as if desperately wanting to go even deeper. That— that was it. Your legs shook, and you pushed back against him, moaning as he slowed his pace to let you unravel around him. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest so loudly, you were sure he could hear it, too.

When you slumped onto the bed, limbs loose and too weak to hold you up, he followed. You lay on your side, and he pulled out to wrap an arm over your waist, hand untangling from your hair. His chest was sweaty against your back, his heavy breaths hitting your nape. It felt nice to your now overheated body, and you resisted the urge to push him away. Reaching behind yourself, you took him in hand. He was slippery, wet with your juices, and your hand slid over him easily in gradually longer strokes. His arm at your waist tightened, his larger body curling against you.

“You’re such a liar.” Your voice was slightly raspy, and you cleared your throat, wetting your lips. “You’ve done this before.”

His cock twitched in your hand, a quick breath escaping him at your ministrations. “Inexperience doesn’t equate to ignorance. I know everything about your body and the way it reacts to mine.”

You lifted a leg, biting your lip as your grip on him loosened so you could guide him inside you again. The resistance of this angle made you moan quietly as he spread and filled you, still sensitive from your orgasm. You lifted your head to look over your shoulder, lips meeting his in a messy kiss to catch the sounds you let out.

He rested an arm underneath your head, his hand coming to your cheek when you faced forward again. You bit at his fingers, sucking on two that he curled into your mouth as he rested inside you, adjusting but unmoving. You pushed back, impatient for more, but he used his other hand to hold you in place by the hip.

You whined around his fingers, biting them harder. With a low sound of impatience at _your_ impatience rumbling from somewhere within his chest, he moved his hand downward, caressing your hip and the outer thigh to hitch it at the back of your knee. He lifted your leg more, easing the tension you hadn’t realized you’d gotten from keeping it up yourself. Finally, _finally_ , he moved against you. It was unhurried, an ebb and flow of him in and out of you that differed from his earlier unrelenting pace.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, dragging them down your bottom lip and the arch of your neck. His hand trailed across your collar bones to your breasts. It rested there, teasing a nipple as he drew you flush against him. He buried his face in your hair and said your name in a strained, desperate voice.

“How perfect a fit you are.” He bit lightly at the joint between your neck and shoulder, grazing his teeth across your sweaty skin. “It’s quite possible, ma chatte—” He pulled out only to sink into you again. His arm holding your leg up began to shake, and you writhed at the unbelievable feeling of him in and against you. “That I hadn’t lived until you arrived.”

A stray thought wandered through your mind at what he’d called you, but it was dismissed as he began a steady pace. Your body trembled, his skin sticking to yours and pulling with each thrust because of the wetness that dripped down your thighs. The lewd sound of it was accompanied by the creak of the bed.

As he gave attention to your neck again, eliciting a moan from you, another thought, a random worry sprang forth from the back of your mind that he was going to make you come undone three times before even doing so himself. It was moot and short lived, though, because he was soon burying himself deep, halting with a groan into the crook of your neck as he spilled into you.

With a final few thrusts, the rough jerk of his hips against you, he rested inside for a moment. You enjoyed the lingering, the way he didn’t seem to want to leave you. Then he withdrew himself, lowering your leg gently before rolling onto his back.

You leaned over the edge of the bed to pick up your pillow and followed suit, clearing your throat as you glanced at him. “Ravus…” You slid a hand, awkward because of the angle, over his chest as you considered your question before continuing. “If you’ve never done it, how did you know…?”

_How did you know exactly what to do?_

He caught his breath, staring at the ceiling. “You once told me that was your favorite way to be taken. I’ve imagined it; you’re aware of that.”

You ran fingers through your hair, though it was a lost cause by now. It was damp and stuck to your sweaty neck and face, a minor annoyance in the face of your satiated state. “When?”

Ravus’ chest was still heaving, and the press of your hand told you his heart was still racing. He placed a large hand over yours, lifting it to kiss your wrist. “In our library, on more than one occasion.” He appeared thoughtful, eyes roaming the ceiling. “During training, of course. Every time I see you in formal wear.”

You pulled your hand from his grip, laying on your side to face him. A laugh bubbled up, light and playful. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this satisfied. “I mean when did I tell you?”

He tilted his head your way, eyes meeting yours. His face was all lovely angles, sharp cheekbones and pointed nose. “The first night we met. You wasted no time after Luna’s rehearsal dinner getting drunk. You complained that you weren’t taken from behind enough.”

Of course it had been while drunk. You had been… a little out of control back then. Even now, years separated from that part of your life, you felt the residual pangs of regret over everything that had happened during the royal wedding. Ravus caught your attention by touching your neck, tracing a gentle circle with the tip of his finger. It startled you slightly, but the small curl of his lip made you blink and relax.

“I’ve left a mark,” he said, drawing his hand away to return his gaze to the ceiling. He seemed blissfully unconcerned with anything, his chest rising and falling with a deep, contented breath. Like he was proud of himself. The thought almost made you snort. He shouldn’t be so confident just because he finally got laid. It took him three decades to do what you did the moment you went to university.

“Do you feel different, like a whole new person?” You walked your fingers up his side, and he grabbed your hand to stop you. A tilt of his head and an unamused glance, and this time you did snort softly. “Now I can say I took a prince’s virginity. There’s probably a joke in there somewhere.” You wiggled your fingers in his grip, but he didn’t relent until you pulled hard enough. “Something, something, sitting on your rock hard throne or whatever.”

“Who exactly would you tell?”

You chewed on your lip, shrugging, though the motion was impeded by your position. “I need to make up with Luna.”

All at once, he was scowling. Was it terrible that your heart warmed at the sight of his ire? It wasn’t as harsh as you were used to and didn’t last long, mellowing into a frown.

“You’ll tell her nothing.”

“Can I tell Prompto?”

“What business is it of his?”

“What if I put an announcement in the royal paper?” You rose your hands, splaying them in the air as if presenting a major headline. “Oracle Prince Finally Gets His Dick Wet.” Dropping your hands, you grinned at him. “We could have a party to celebrate. Invite all of Tenebrae like during the festival season.”

Ravus gave you a withering look.

“What?” You poked at him. “Is it so bad that I wanna celebrate?”

His expression softened into something neutral. Then he smiled, the slightest curve of his mouth. He rolled over, leaning above you and trapping you with his elbows resting on the bed at either side of your head. As his knee parted your legs, you felt yourself weaken all over again. He ducked his head to nip at the peak of a brest, his nose slowly tracing up your collar and his lips brushing your neck.

“There are far better ways to celebrate,” he said as he lifted his head to gaze down at you.

You weren’t going to argue with that.

—

As you walked down the stairs to the car lot just outside Lestallum, Ravus’ hand slid down your back to rest at your behind for a moment before completely falling away. It hadn’t been the first overtly familiar thing he’d done all morning, and you were hoping it wouldn’t be the last. Every time he did something like that, you would look his way only to be met with a calm expression.

You bumped him with your shoulder, not sparing him a look this time. “Papa-gâteau, you wanna drive?”

He hummed in disinterest, and you smiled, loading your bag into the trunk of the rental. Of course he wouldn’t want to drive, he’d probably never driven in his life. The thought of—

“Hey, replaced Prompto with a taller, richer model?”

While Ravus loaded the rest, you turned to face Vyv, who must’ve just walked up from the lookout. He was already sweating, and you had to admit you weren’t far behind even though it was relatively early in the morning.

“Yeah, I traded him in,” you answered easily, liking the weird journalist’s quirks for spotting things so quickly.

He looked past you to Ravus, a brow rising. “A prince, too. You’ve been busy. Too busy to help out an old friend?”

You had to fight an eye roll. But of course. “Prompto’s not with me. I don’t do insane landscape shots for little cash.”

He actually laughed, and you felt Ravus come to your side, his arm at your waist. Oh, he was getting extremely comfortable with public displays at a rapidly increasing pace. Like a handsy teen or something.

Vyv looked between you, then said, “It’s not insane. A simple shot of a swamp. I need it for an article about frogs in the next issue.”

You crossed your arms. “I dunno, dude. A swamp sounds smelly.”

Vyv laughed again. “You can’t be too important to snap a picture or two. I’ll pay you double what I gave last time.”

The gil wasn’t the issue, you thought as you uncrossed your arms. “We aren’t coming back to Lestallum.”

“That’s fine. You’re on your way to Galdin Quay to catch a ferry to Tenebrae, right?” Vyv looked between you again. “Just give it to my guy Dino. He’s always hanging around that resort.”

You looked at Ravus, and he gave you nothing. This was going to be up to you, and because you were now terribly nervous about whatever awaited you in Tenebrae, a brief detour didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Facing Vyv, you shrugged. “Alright, just give me the details.”

—

When Vyv had said swamp, he hadn’t been kidding or using hyperbole to describe a slightly wetter part of the forest in Duscae. The air was ripe, the stench of it burning in your nostrils as you coursed your way through the area on the driest spots of ground. Ravus seemed to hate it more than you did, going ahead of you and getting his boots muddier and muddier with his missteps.

He stepped into a spot that began to squish and suck his foot in, the squelching sound of it loud as he quickly pulled it out and moved forward. He looked back at you with a frown when you laughed.

“Amused, are you?”

You nodded, walking around the squishy hole he’d created. You’d told him he could wait in the car, but he’d insisted on going with you. _There could be wild animals,_ he’d said. _I need to protect you,_ he’d said. You watched him brace a hand on a tree and take a careful step and had to fight another laugh at his displeased look.

The photo op was a close up of the local frogs that some scientist was studying. Vyv had said they were specific to this area. So it was a matter of actually finding them, a fact that had you walking in circles.

“Frogs,” Ravus spoke up, irritation heavy in his voice. “In autumn? I think we’ve been tricked.”

“They’re special frogs.” You caught up to him because he’d stopped moving. “Just keep an eye—”

You cut yourself off, eyes widening when you noticed the group of red, slimy little things just beyond a deeper bit of swampland just ahead. Your hands came to your rarely-used fancy camera that hang from a strap at your neck. The frogs were at the top of a slope on the other side of the murky, smelly pool. You didn’t have a good angle, but crossing the water would both speak terribly for your boots and scare away your targets.

“Ravus,” you whispered. “Help me climb that tree.”

He looked back at you, and you tore your gaze from the frogs to smile up at him.

“What?” He didn’t even attempt to whisper, his brows furrowing in confusion. His hand still rested on the tree trunk, red and orange leaves brushing his head from the lowest branches.

You hushed him and wormed past him to touch the tree yourself. The bark wasn’t very rough, and you hopped a little to just barely graze the nearest branch with the tips of your fingers. Behind you, Ravus sighed, and you turned around to quietly tell him to suck it up. He’d bent, interlacing his fingers and holding them out for you to get a step up.

Smiling at his readiness, you patted his head before steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder and putting your muddy boot on his waiting offer up. He lifted you easily, and you were able to climb onto the the lowest branch. The bark lightly scratched at your forearms but not painfully so. You struggled for a second before straddling the branch and resting back against the trunk.

Below you, Ravus looked at his muddy hands and wiped them on the thighs of his pants. If you weren’t trying to be quiet, you would’ve said something. How _common_ of him to wipe his hands on his trousers. He might’ve found that insulting, though, considering how sincere he’d been only days before about becoming a commoner.

Bringing your focus to the task at hand, you snapped the photo for Vyv, all the walking and searching you’d done feeling anticlimactic now that you’d gotten it. You wiggled your feet to catch Ravus’ attention, but getting down somehow seemed more complicated than climbing up because you were suddenly feeling very high.

“Jump down,” Ravus said, holding his arms out.

Did he really think he could catch you? Well… he probably could. He’d held your full weight in his arms plenty of times before. Most recently when you’d— You cleared your throat, throwing a leg over the branch so they both dangled on the same side.

“You better catch me,” you warned.

“I will.”

“I mean it.”

Ravus’ lip curled in small a scowl. “I won’t allow harm to befall you. Now jump.”

So you did.

Pushing yourself off the branch, you felt the brief dizziness of vertigo as the world grew closer while somehow growing wider. You landed on hard arms, the wind getting knocked out of you as he grappled for a hold on your waist. The ground squished loudly beneath his feet. You wobbled in his arms, and he grunted in frustration, holding you against him as he stumbled back.

Taking most of the fall, Ravus splashed back into the swamp ass first. Your head bounced against his chest, surprisingly painful when your temple hit his collarbone. The water was uncomfortably _warm,_ and you sat up on Ravus, shaking it from your arms. He was filthy, scowling as he sat up and wrang the dirty water from the ends of his hair.

The chirping of the frogs that had filled the air before were now gone. Quiet surrounded you from all sides save for your heavy breaths and the sound of thunder overhead. The forest here was too thick to see the sky, but it had been a deep, cloudy grey before you’d left the car parked on the roadside.

Looking up, you saw nothing but the swaying tree branches and rustling leaves overhead. That thunder was the first sign that it wasn’t simply a cloudy day. You touched your sore temple gently with a dirty hand and looked at Ravus again.

He appeared entirely done, sitting in a shallow pool of smelly swamp water and nearly seething. You scrambled to get up, but he grabbed you by the waist, keeping you there so he could drop his head to your chest, his forehead resting against your cleavage. It was an odd move that had you brushing a hand over his hair.

“Ravus?”

He didn’t say anything, uneven breaths moving his shoulders. You waited several beats before putting your hands on his cheeks and lifting his head away. He frowned at you. Thunder rolled again, louder this time. The wind picked up, and you felt a chill from being all wet in the cold air.

You brushed his cheek with a thumb, and it only added to the dirtiness of his appearance. You were both filthy. “What’s up?”

He inhaled deeply and let it go through his nose. “I’m attempting to regain myself.”

You gave him the smallest smile. “You can’t because we’re in a swamp?”

He ran a hand through his hair, brushing back the wet, dirty strands. “That, and you are in my lap.”

Your smile grew. “There are worse places to be.”

The sound of rain began to patter from above, hitting the veil of trees. Ravus leaned forward, his mouth meeting yours in a firm kiss that lingered. Delving your fingers into his hair, you returned the kiss with more force than he gave. Thunder rumbled louder, and you felt it in the way the water shook and the air around you thickened.

Ravus drew back, pulling your hands away from his face. “We should go.”

Feeling adventurous, you shook your head and leaned in for another kiss that he avoided by tilting his head away.

“Ma crevette, not here,” he said, somewhere close to a scolding tone.

The rain fell harder, breaking through the canopy of leaves above. It hit you in fat drops, much colder than the warm swamp water you were sitting in. You resigned to his rejection, getting off of him and sloshing around in the water. On drier ground, the rain pelting you now, you looked down at your boots with a sigh. They were ruined.

“Your camera?” Ravus had stood and walked toward you through the water.

You touched it with a shrug. “It’s waterproof.” It was honestly the last thing on your mind. Your mind was still stuck on the thought of what it would’ve been like to ride him. You could’ve sworn he’d been the one to come on to you first.

The walk back to the car was slow moving. With the rain, the ground was even soggier and each step sank. Steam rose from the water, misting the air and clouding your vision every few seconds. The rain had your clothes sticking to you in every crevice, your hair matted to your face.

When you saw the rental in the distance, you picked up your pace, grabbing Ravus’ hand as if he needed any help being faster than you. Finally on pavement, you let him go and cheered, your boots leaving thick, muddy spots with each step that were quickly erased by the rain.

You bent down to pull at the laces, loosening them so you could pull them off. Getting warm and dry was priority, and if that meant you were driving to Galdin Quay completely nude with the heat at full blast, you could think of worse ways to road trip. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Ravus watching you and paused with one boot off.

“What?”

He stood near the edge of the road, not having walked all the way to the car; most of the muddier spots that had been on his hair and shirt had been washed away by the rain. “What are you doing?”

You pulled off the second boot and opened a back door, tossing them in carelessly. Next came the camera —delicate, that one— and your shirt. When he’d yet to move as you began to unbutton your jeans, you said, “Trying to avoid hypothermia.”

The pants were hardest to get off, already tight on your legs when they’d been dry. He finally began to follow suit, saying nothing of your questionable guess as to the right way to deal with potential illness from overexposure.

You scrambled around the car and threw yourself into the driver’s seat in only your undergarments. Waiting for him to join you was entertaining in its own way. You leaned heavily into the passenger seat to look out the window as he pulled off his sweater and shed himself of his boots and pants.

Shivers shook their way through you, gooseflesh across your arms. You turned on the car and rubbed at them for more immediate warmth. When Ravus joined you, he seemed much less bothered by all the cold, running fingers through his hair and looking your way. You were distracted by the way the water dripped down his shoulders and over his chest.

Clearing your throat, you brought your attention forward. You needed to leave right now in order to make it to Galdin Quay at a somewhat decent hour. Adjusting the vents with shaky fingers to have the warm air flow your way, you gripped the steering wheel. It was cold, making you shiver all over again. Letting it go, you reached for the seatbelt because _right._ You needed to focus. What did it matter that Ravus was practically naked right next to you? He’d turned you down, and you knew him well enough to take that at face value.

A hand grabbed yours, stopping you from buckling yourself in. Looking up at him, you found Ravus’ eyes focused on your own. You let go of the seatbelt and it snapped back into place, the sound jarring against the soft beat of the rain. Ravus pulled you toward him by the hand as he leaned closer.

“Let me warm you.” It was almost too quiet to hear over the rain, spoken between you as if it were a secret he didn’t want you to share with anyone else.

Your breath caught when he leaned across the space and kissed your neck. Warm against your skin, his lips moved upward to bite at the place he’d already left a mark.

You let him pull you closer, the action of climbing over the middle console a little clumsy until you were sitting on his lap. The car wasn’t very big, your head bumping against the glass of the sunroof. A small laugh escaped you as you adjusted yourself to rest against him fully your nose brushing his, elbows on his shoulders.

Skin on skin, you both paused. His hands ran up and down your sides, his nails grazing lightly. You closed your eyes, enjoying the contact. He was just as chilly and wet as you were in spite of what he’d said. Your hair dripped water on him, and you opened your eyes to watch it slide down his chest.

He drew you into a kiss, moving his hips upward. The thin, soaked fabric of your underclothes meant you felt everything. His cock was growing hard, and he had no intention of hiding it. You reached between your bodies, jerking his waistband down roughly and sliding your hand along the length of it. His skin stuck to yours, pulling with every slow draw of your hand. Tongue meeting his, you felt his moan in your mouth and against your chest as it pressed into him.

You pulled back, looking down at the motion of your hand wrapped around him. He leaned in for another, but you stopped him with a hand on his face, just like he had to you in the swamp. He’d totally come on to you, had thought _that_ wasn’t an appropriate place but _this_ was? Your thumb accidentally caught at the corner of his mouth and he bit it, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Are you warm yet?” you asked, pumping your hand over him faster. The softest blush began to dust his cheeks. You pulled your thumb from his mouth, resting your hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t say anything, leaning forward only for you to lean out of range for a kiss that would distract.

“Huh?” You squeezed his cock, suddenly slowing the motion. “Tell me what you want, papa-gâteau.”

His arm about your waist tightened, his erection and your hand around it caught between you. Forced to stop teasing, you let go of him, leaned in, and slowly rolled your hips.

“You made me wait for so long,” you said against his mouth, not quite giving him the kiss he wanted. “Do you know how hard that was?”

Feeling his bare cock against your thigh sent a completely different shiver through you, warmth pooling at your core. Ravus bucked upward, keeping you held against him in a strong grip. Your legs around his thighs tightened on their own, the promise of him being inside with only a jerk of your panties making you swallow.

You attempted to regain control, gripping his jaw and pressing his head back into the headrest. “It was worth it.” Brushing your lips against his once, giving him the smallest taste of what he wanted, you leaned back with a little smile. “But you aren’t allowed to make me wait anymore.”

The armrest on the door dug into your shin as you shifted above him. This was so fucking unclassy, you thought, almost laughing as your head hit the glass of the sunroof again. You kept your hand on his jaw, using the other to pull your underwear out of the way. The cotton gave, sticking to your thigh, and you watched his face as you sank down onto him.

Lips parted with a heavy breath, his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and his arm around you stiffened. You relished the feeling of him, resting for a moment to let yourself adjust. He wasn’t as patient, thrusting up as if he hadn’t already filled you. You dug your nails into his shoulder, your hand at his jaw gripping harder. It sent a white hot feeling through you, and you hissed through your teeth at how much his thick cock was spreading you.

He thrust again, his eyes opening to focus on you between lidded, narrow slits. You opened your mouth to say something, but he leaned forward, your hand doing nothing to keep him back, and smashed a kiss to your mouth. You gasped into it, realizing he’d been _letting_ you tease him, and he took that opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth. His arm loosened around you, his hands grabbing yours and forcing them away.

You broke the kiss, bouncing as he held your wrists behind your back and began to rock upward, sliding in and out of you in quick, hard movements of his hips against yours. You shuddered, the last of your false control slipping away with a moan. Trying to pull your arms free proved useless. He moved both of your wrists to one of his large hands, holding them tightly as the other hand came to your waist in a tight grip.

He pulled you down with each thrust, meeting you roughly. The windows began to fog, the car rocking slightly with the movement of your bodies. The slap of your skin was wet and loud, his heavy breaths quieted when he bent to nip at your breasts. His tongue traced a peak, and you quivered again, buckling under the force of his cock leaving and filling you without relent.

Your head fell forward, resting on his damp hair. He fucked you harder, moving the attention of his mouth to your other breast and biting down. You cried out and tightened around him. His hand at your waist forced you down onto him in a hard jerk, holding you there. He panted into your cleavage, and you felt him twitch inside. Rolling your hips in a circular motion, you elicited a moan from him.

“Come for me,” you said, trying out what he so often told you.

He pulled you back by the wrists, raising his head to meet your eyes with his own. They were blown wide and searching. “Call me—” He ground his teeth as you shifted around him again. “Say that ridiculous pet name.”

You nodded without question, repeating, “Come for me, papa-gâteau.”

Lifting yourself against his grip, you drew him out of you and sank down again. This time, you weren’t under the illusion that you had any control. He was flush from his face down his neck and over his chest, heavy breaths falling out of him as you took the lead. You were merely giving him a break, hoping you would see him fall apart in the process.

Falling into the steady motion of riding him, you arched and keened when he grunted your name. It kissed the skin of your collarbones, followed by _I love you,_ repeated in breathy Tenebraen. His grip on your wrist clenched, and you slowed, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Pleasure coiled, feeling like a spark that consumed you a few thrusts later. You moaned, resting against his solid hold and slowing further to a stop, your legs and pussy tightening around him.

You gasped for air, your heart thudding heavily in your chest. His damp hair stuck to your face, and you blew it away, feeling his hold on your wrists loosen and disappear. Bringing your arms forward, you placed your hands on his chest and leaned back.

His hands were already cupping your face, drawing you in for a soft kiss that didn’t match any of his earlier actions. His chest heaved against yours, and it was with several swallows and steadying breaths that you were able to speak.

“I can keep going,” you said, rolling your hips.

His jaw clenched, a low moan coming from somewhere in his chest. “I may need a moment.”

You stopped moving, blinking in realization. He’d come already, that fact made obvious by the replete look on his face. He rested his head back, eyes not leaving yours. Suddenly, just how uncomfortable that position was hit you in full. Your shins were sore from the armrests, your back angled forward awkwardly to keep your head from hitting the sunroof yet again.

Climbing off of him, you felt him leave you and scrambled back to the driver’s seat. You looked down at yourself, wondering what the rental fee would be for cum stains on the interior.

—

A stop was made in Duscae, by order of one persistent prince. He didn’t want either of you to catch ill, apparently, but by the way he stared at your phone when you handed it to him to call the Oracle —it should’ve been a decent hour in Tenebrae despite how late it was in Lucis— that he was stalling your return. You didn’t think he would even make the call, but you found him speaking in a somewhat clipped tone when you walked out of the bathroom from a much needed hot shower.

Ravus, still wearing his damp clothes, stood near the desk placed in the corner of the motel room. The fingers on his free hand drummed along the surface of the wood, his back straight and frown perfectly in place.

“Lunafreya, I understand that you feel this way,” he said, his fingers pausing.

You watched him, drying your hair as you crossed the room to your luggage. He tensed for a moment, then sighed. You’d thought he would call his mom, but this was just as important. Luna was owed an explanation just as much, you thought.

“I apologize for that.” He rose his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing. “It’s no one’s fault but her own that she hadn’t found me. I wasn’t hiding.”

You got dressed for bed as the conversation wore on. You eavesdropped because it was easy, though none of the things he said were particularly surprising. _No, I don’t regret it_ and _I’ll do as I damn well please_ made you roll your eyes in particular.

By the time you were crawling into bed, he handed the phone back to you and began to undress himself. You dozed in and out of rest while he showered, becoming more alert the moment he joined you in bed. You were exhausted, but having him so close made you especially excited lately. For obvious reasons.

You wanted to ask about the phone call, but something else had been on your mind since you’d fucked in the car. You rolled over to face him, seeing nothing in the darkness. “So you like it when I call you papa-gâteau?”

He reached for you, hand pulling you closer by the waist. “I do.”

Cuddling into him, you finally felt real, solid warmth for the first time all day. “I mean, you _really_ like it, huh?”

He grew quiet, his even breaths bringing you calm. You almost thought he fell asleep until he spoke.

“Did you know papa-gâteau has two meanings colloquially?”

You shook your head, your nose touching his chest, interested in where he was going with this.

“Your trollish definition can be applied to it, of course. But it also refers to a kind, doting father of one’s child.” He sighed contentedly into your hair. “Everyone in the manor had thought you planned to bear my children for years.”

You gaped, the action becoming a yawn that you covered with a hand. “I always thought they were talking trash because they thought you were my sugar daddy.”

“That, too, was undoubtedly a cause for their spite.”

You burrowed closer into his arms. “Why didn’t you ever deny it?”

“It was amusing hearing you unwittingly announce that I was to father your children anytime we happened to be in the same room.” He was smiling; you could hear it in his voice. “You always appeared so pleased with yourself. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“You were letting me look like an idiot.”

He hummed, not saying anything. Too sleepy to deal with this any further, you let yourself drift off without a clear understanding of why letting everyone think that about you for years was any way at all related to him liking it during sex.

—

“Because your kiss, _your kiss,_ is on my list. Because your _kiss—_ Ravus, sing with me.” You looked over at him, but he kept his eyes trained decidedly away from you and your obnoxious singing.

On the final stretch to Galdin Quay, you’d stumbled upon a radio station dedicated to the electronic synth pop of the M.E. 720s. The very first song you’d heard was about a virgin being touched for the very first time. It was, in a word, delightful. Finding it was easily the greatest thing to happen on your road trip so far. At least, that’s what you told Ravus, who’d rolled his eyes so hard, he hadn’t looked your way since.

He seemed all too relieved when you crested the hill that led down to the beach. Returning the rental was more of a hassle than you liked, the car being inspected in the parking lot before you were given a receipt and the go ahead to leave. You bypassed everything in the resort to go directly to the dock where Vyv had said Dino would be waiting. For all the times you’d been to Galdin Quay, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t already met this friend of a friend.

Except, when you came face to face with him and his absurd accent, you realized you _had_ met him. Right before your first stint in Tenebrae, years ago. He didn’t seem to remember you being the woman who’d almost slept with him only to run away sobbing before even getting her clothes off. He looked from you to Ravus, the smile on his face growing wide.

“Well, well,” he said. “Vyv didn’t tell me I was meeting with the Oracle in training.”

You held out the thumb drive that Vyv had given you to put the images on. Dino didn’t take it, not paying attention to you.

“I’ve heard a lot about you lately, your highness,” he said, cocking his head. “Making a name for yourself in rural Lucis…” Then, his eyes trailed to you. “Getting into inappropriate public displays on Lestallum streets.”

You frowned at him, waving the drive. He finally took it from you, putting it into an inner pocket of his jacket. Ready to turn on your heel because Vyv would send you the money later, you looked to Ravus who had eyes narrowed on the other man.

“Let’s go eat while we wait for the ferry,” you said, tugging at his arm.

He didn’t budge, asking, “How do you know anything of my goings on?”

Dino shrugged. “Word gets around, pal. I might know a guy. People see things.”

Ravus didn’t seem terribly happy with this. “My private life isn’t a spectacle to be viewed for entertainment.”

“Isn’t it, though? I’ve seen that Tenebraen program that began airing not long after you got here last month.”

You had no idea what was going on. “Program?”

Dino looked between you again. “Some kinda ploy to improve the royal public image. It's about the prince here being in love with a woman he met at his sister’s wedding. The dramatic reenactment is priceless, alls I gotta say. Don’t know why they gotta lie claimin’ she shot a guy, though.”

You… still weren’t following.

“I’m guessin’ you’re the woman?” Dino eyed you over. “The actress wasn’t far off.”

Some of the pieces were finally coming together. Only not really. You fully turned to Ravus, your face hopefully displaying just how confused you were. He seemed to have realized something, his brows high on his head. His eyes went from Dino to you, then, as if finally taking your lead, he grabbed your hand and turned heel away from the man.

You couldn’t get him to say anything until food was placed in front of you. The way he barely touched the crab on his plate had you a little worried.

“I hired a PR manager, as you’d once suggested,” he said, holding his fork but not using it. “Right before my departure, I told them everything about us. I’ve no idea what program that man speaks of, but I believe it to be their doing.”

That somehow made more sense than you expected. It was also much less worrying. As the meal went on, you actually found it amusing and looked it up as soon as you were leaving port, cozied up next to Ravus in a large seat on the ferry.

The program looked to have a fair budget, the props and sets looking great. You didn’t recognize the actors, but the woman playing you was, indeed, pretty close to your likeness. Ravus’ actor wasn’t so much, but you didn’t think anyone could compare, really. The entire thing detailed how you’d met, Ravus’ involvement in your recovery, and how you’d fallen in love.

It was painfully corny. You loved it.

Ravus had watched it with you intently, apparently pleased with how it had turned out. “I should contact them when we arrive home.”

You nodded. “They went all out with this.” In the credits, you noticed a fair amount of familiar names that went into creating the program. Particularly the Producer’s, which was listed as the topmost contributor. You felt a sort of comfort knowing you hadn’t ever lost support from your professional community with the video and nude leaks. It had been far too easy to forget them in your haste to get away from Tenebrae.

You only hoped the Hallmark-level of cheesy drama of your love story had won over at least a small percentage of the populous in your absence. If not, you’d just have to _make_ them respect you because you weren’t going anywhere.

—

Ravus had booked private quarters on the train, which you’d initially thought was silly because it was only a day’s ride from the shore to the manor, one you’d done every time in the confines of crowded economy train cars without issue.

You found it a particular waste when he spent the first half of the trip lounging on the bed reading rather than making proper use of the space. Distracting him from himself hadn’t worked so far. The t-shirt and panties you wore did nothing to entice, like you’d hoped. The furrow at his brow only seemed to deepen when you offered to please him with your mouth. You realized, looking at the tense set of his shoulders and the fact that he was reading much slower than he usually did, that he was worried.

“Is it about the Oracle?” you asked, leaning into his side. There was still time for him to call her.

“It’s everything,” he relented quietly. “I’ve no idea what to expect when we arrive.”

You slid your feet back and forth on the bed as you considered this, the silky sheets smooth to the touch. Not sure what to say because you were even more at a loss for what to expect, you put a hand on his book. Attempting another distraction, you chose to feed a curiosity you’d had for days now.

“So, about something you said after our first time,” you began, pushing the book down into his lap and gaining his full attention. “You knew you wanted to sleep with me in the library and during training?”

He blinked at the sudden question, the rare look of hesitance crossing his sharp features. “Yes.”

“Any other time you imagined being with me? How long?” The questions began to spill from you like air from a punctured balloon. “You said you liked me in formal wear, too. Does that mean you were more attracted to me when we were at the New Year’s ball? Was that what made you realize how horny you were for me?”

His frown sharpened. “I’ll not answer your silly questions.”

“C’mon,” you whined, grin splitting your face. You lifted your hand to grip the front of his shirt. “How long were you repressing your latent sexual desires, papa-gâteau?”

In an easy movement, he gripped your chin in a hand, effectively weakening your smile. “Any further down that line of questioning,” he said, voice lowering as his face grew closer to yours. “And I’ll return to abstinence, ma crevette. We both know I have a greater tolerance for it.”

You didn’t like the sound of that at all. Wanting to call him on his bluff, you slowly ran your foot up along his leg and slid your hand down his chest. He tensed further, his expression sharpening with its frown. Not the reaction you wanted. You bit your lip and withdrew from him.

Ravus caught your hand, wrapping it in his own and bringing it up to his mouth. When he closed his eyes, kissing the back of it gently, you melted a little.

“Thank you,” he said, dropping your joined hands to his lap.

“For what?” You weren’t trying to sound indignant, but it came out that way.

Not answering, he opened the book that rested in his lap and went back to reading. You scrolled through your phone, sinking into his side and relaxing. Sleep found you soon after, though you hadn’t wanted to sleep on the train at all.

It felt as if no time had passed between the moment you’d leaned into him and now, your eyes jerking open suddenly. Your little waking gasp had Ravus looking down at you, your hands clutching at his arm tightly.

“You should get proper rest,” he told you.

You fought against the idea, frowning and whining. In the end, you were out once again, falling into a deep sleep and letting yourself be surrounded in his warmth.

When you woke, your cheek was pressed firmly to his chest. He’d taken his shirt off at some point, his skin warm against yours. You yawned, and his arm around you tightened. Shifting your head up, you found him serene, still sleeping by the way his slow, steady breaths made his chest rise and fall.

Sunlight filtered through the white opaque curtains at the windows, light and warm. You must’ve been growing close to Tenebrae; you were meant to arrive sometime mid-morning. Checking your phone solidified that, letting you know you had two hours left of the trip.

You broke from Ravus’ hold, stretching with a satisfied sigh. You needed that deep rest more than you realized. Your leg brushed against something hard, and you looked over at Ravus again. His eyes were open, soft with sleep but alert enough to catch you off guard.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling sleepily at him.

He returned the smile, lifting a hand to your cheek. When he leaned in to kiss you, it was soft and slow. He leaned over you, pressing you back into the bed. Eyes opening wider at his morning wood pressing against your leg, you felt desire spark softly in you. One of his hands roamed your body, slipping under the shirt to skate fingers over your skin while his pliable lips moved against yours.

He parted your legs with his own, leaning over you and moving his mouth downward. The graze of his teeth at the tender places on your neck elicited a quiet moan. His erection pressed against you, rubbing you with each shift of him moving down your body with his mouth.

He pulled your shirt up, and you leaned up slightly to help him pull it off completely. Tossing it away, he kissed over each breast, his attention so much gentler than it had been in ages. His mouth left open kisses, his tongue tracing hot, wet trails along the underside of your breasts and down your stomach. It made you shiver and tense, almost tickling you.

He slid your underwear off carefully, brushing his lips over your hips and thighs as he tugged the cotton down. When they were off, his hands smoothed over your inner thighs, his thumbs parting you. Always a little shy and curious when a partner found themselves there, you looked down at him to see him gazing at your body, his little smile gone.

He ducked his head, delving a tongue into you, and you rested your head back, another quiet moan falling out of you. Feeling his lips move against you as his tongue circled and lapped, you arched at the pleasure of it and lowered a hand to his head, gripping his hair tightly.

He held your leg in place with his free hand, sliding a finger in while his tongue remained adamant in its hard, wet attention to your clit. Your leg jerked at his finger suddenly curling and rubbing inside, but it didn’t stop him from feasting on you, his hand holding your thigh firmly against the bed. He sucked on your soft flesh, his nose pressing your clit while he added another finger.

It was as if he had it down to a science. He traced shapes with his tongue, his fingers plunging into you and rubbing the place that made you arch and grow closer to a finish with each movement. You pulled harder on his hair, not wanting to come this way.

“Ravus,” you breathed, tightening around his fingers. “Fuck me.”

His tongue left you briefly, enough for him to say, “I am.”

Your next words fell away into a breathy moan when he sucked hard on your clit. Legs shaking again, you pulled even harder at his hair. This only seemed to make him eat you harder, his finger burying themselves deep and teeth biting and pulling at you.

“P-please,” you said, growing closer to the edge. “Papa-gâteau, with your cock.”

He finally slowed, and after a beat of quiet, withdrew his fingers. He left one last kiss against your inner thigh, then shifted to pull his own underwear off. You let go of his hair as he rested over you, propping himself up on an elbow. He brought a hand to your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek gently as the tip of his cock teased at you.

You ran your foot up the back of his calf, spreading your legs wider to invite him in. The morning must’ve given you more patience than usual because you relished the way he slowly entered you. When your bodies were flush, as close as you could possibly be, he lowered his head to kiss you, his eyes falling closed.

He pulled himself out, then thrust back in languidly, in no hurry this morning. The wet, sticky heat between your thighs built at his invasion, his cock filling you completely. With the slow kind of fucking that could only be described as lovemaking, Ravus kissed you and held you, breathy Tenebraen hitting your skin and your hair. Feeling every part of him against you, being wrapped up in one another, you shook at his every thrust and met each kiss with eager want.

When he came, it was with a low utterance of your name. The feeling of his thick cock pulsating in you, filling you with a promise, you came undone yourself. Legs locking around him, fingers clawing at his shoulders from the intensity of it, you writhed beneath him, falling apart into a melted mess of heavy breaths, love, and sweat.

He grabbed your hands and sat up between your legs, drawing himself out completely. You stared up at him, blissed out but already amped for another round. His cock brushed against you with his movements, overstimulating your sensitive flesh.

You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. “More.”

“You’ve drawn blood,” he said, looking at one of your hands.

Peering at his shoulder, you realized you’d scratched him too hard. It wasn’t much blood, but it drew your concern anyway.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

He jerked his hips forward, his cock entering you in one hard thrust. You cried out, eyes closing and body erupting in pleasure as he began a much harder pace than before. His body met yours in hard movements, his skin sticky with sweat.

His hair framed your face, each thrust making your entire body shift along the bed. He held your hands down, inhibiting all movement. Both wet and already full to the brim with him, the movements were slick, searing with heat, and your overheated body shook each time his cock slammed into you.

“Don’t apologize,” he growled, biting your shoulder as he fucked you harder.

You clenched around him, the force of him against you coiling pleasure deep at your core. Wanting to touch him, you fought against his hold at your wrists, but he didn’t relent. His body was hard and slick with sweat, sliding against yours, his cock entering you roughly.

Hitting you without warning, you came around him again, your legs quaking as a cry tumbled out of your mouth. He slowed for you, letting you rock against him. The orgasm tore through your body, satisfying but leaving you weakened. When he returned to fucking you, all you could manage was breathy moans and soft kisses when he leaned down to meet them.

Having him in you, rubbing and hitting every part of you when it was so sensitive, was almost unbearable. Tears pricked at your eyes, flowing over at the intense pleasure burning hot at your core. Ravus slowed again, his eyes suddenly questioning. He let go of your wrists, wiping at a tear that slid down your temple.

You tucked loose strands of his hair behind an ear and pulled him down to meet you in a reassuring kiss. When he thrust again, you moaned into his mouth. This was a perfect morning, being shown how much you were appreciated by the most important person in your life.

There was only one worry, deep in the back of your mind. You weren’t going to be ready when the train arrived to the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	11. Clever girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for **maximum cheese**. All the smut was in the last chapter, so here is fluff to balance it out.

As the train slowed to a stop, you felt your heart crawl up your throat like a slug trying to slime its way out of your body through your mouth. Ravus, entirely unphased by the fact that you’d been on top of him only half an hour prior, picked off nonexistent lint from his sweater. Swallowing down your heart, you tried to follow his lead of nonchalance. This wasn’t going to be any different than the last time you’d negotiated with the Oracle. She was a reasonable woman; she’d given you allowances before, and she knew how to compromise.

Then why were you so nervous? This thought and this feeling were both far too recurring and suffocating. Ravus had said his mother’s retraction had been fake and pointless, but the pain you’d felt over it had been real. You needed to be certain that you were still welcome in her eyes. Knowing whether or not you had to win her over again really determined how well your return to the manor was going to play out.

So, that. That’s why you were nervous.

Anxiety swirled in your stomach, twisting it into knots. You grimaced as the train stopped fully, the speakers overhead crackling with sound, letting you know that you’d arrived to Fenestala Manor station.

As you left the private cabin, making your way down a hallway in the train car with your carry on, you heard the sound of crashing waves or maybe thunder that was just beginning to roll before cracking. Thunder made more sense; you were in the mountains, after all. You slowed when you passed a window, realizing it was neither.

The station was packed with bodies. People, yelling and waving banners, filled the entire platform. Your first thought was that it had to be a protest. There were too many signs and too much screaming for it to be anything good. Then your eyes caught the largest banner, hanging from two of the arching arbors along the station’s edge.

_Welcome home!_

Ravus touched your shoulder, pushing you forward. You were hard pressed to move, though, still looking out the window. No one seemed to know they were being watched, the crowd shifting like an amalgamous blob that couldn’t make up its mind over its shape.

“Is that for you? How did they know you were coming?”

Ravus slid his hand down your spine, pushing you at your lower back instead. This made you move, and he followed, keeping his hand there firmly.

“Luna’s doing, most likely.”

You traveled down the hall of the train car, through a doorway to a connecting cabin, and into the next car. Other passengers were gazing out the windows at the crowds curiously as they filed toward the exit. You weren’t sure how you were going to make it through the station. Unless you jumped right off the train and crowd surfed all the way to the manor. You had serious doubts that anyone would be willing to catch you.

Stepping out of the train after Ravus, you were startled by how much louder it was without the barrier of the train car. You’d thought of crashing waves before, but it was a barrage of discord on the ears, noise from all directions. Ravus held your hand, helping you down the steps and keeping himself between you and the crowd.

The people weren’t hostile, but your space was invaded, hands touching your shoulders and brushing against your arms as you were overwhelmed with welcomes and praises. Before you realized what was happening, Honorguard were pushing through, making way for Ravus to lead you across the platform and to the main bridge that led to the manor. The guards remained behind, barring anyone from following you.

Ravus’ hand was warm and rough over yours, guiding you across the bridge at a steady walk. It was best that way because you were at risk of getting dizzy from both the anxiety of the crowds and from being so high up. Eyes forward, you noticed as you grew closer to the castle grounds that someone was waiting for you at the other end of the bridge. With each step closer, it became increasingly clear who was there to greet you.

Adorned in her usual gown and raiment, the Oracle nodded in greeting when you stopped just steps in front of her. She lifted a hand, beckoning you to follow before she turned away and walked toward the manor.

Your hand tightened in Ravus’, and the light pressure he returned was all you needed to push forward.

—

She smiled, and that was the biggest worry of all. It was slight and didn’t reach her eyes, which flicked between you and Ravus like a ticker on a metronome. Like she couldn’t decide who to be upset with first.

Her office, a place you’d been into so few times, echoed with the crackling sound of the wood burning in the fireplace. Guards stood at the doors behind you and Ravus, holding them open even after you’d entered. You had to fight the urge to look over your shoulder at them in question for lingering.

One of your hands remained in Ravus’, not letting him go. The other played with the hourglass that hang from your neck, rubbing and squeezing it as if to siphon the blessing out of it and over yourself for protection. You had no idea what to expect from here and wanted to at least start off on the right foot, if possible.

“Your Oracle, uh, I mean,” you cleared your throat as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Your majesty, if I may speak—”

“You’ve nothing to explain, dear,” the Oracle interrupted. “Everything I wish to understand rests on the shoulders of my son.” Her eyes went to him, then, landing and sticking as her smile waned. “I’m beyond disappointed, Ravus.”

Your stomach sank at her words and the way they made Ravus look down at the marble floor, his hand pulling away from yours. He drew in a deep breath, then turned to you.

“Wait outside,” he said, gently touching your arm and bending to kiss your temple.

Looking between him and the Oracle, you didn’t move. The quiet stretched, only the sound of the fire creating a dissonance. “No,” you said, taking his hand off your arm and letting it fall between you. “I think I’ll stay.”

The Oracle met your gaze again, and you worried your lips between your teeth, pressing down in hopes that what you’d said was the right thing. Shrinking back was the natural response your body wanted to follow, but you bit the inside of your cheek and held the eye contact. You didn’t need to have read the duchess handbook to know it was rude to maintain a stare with the Oracle for too long, but you weren’t going to be left out so easily.

“Excellent,” she suddenly said, nearly making you jump in how it broke the quiet that had fallen over the office.

Behind you, the doors shut, and you finally allowed yourself to look over your shoulder to find the guards gone, presumably on the other side. When turning around again, you caught Ravus looking at you. His brows were drawn together, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a minute frown. You touched his arm, and his frown eased, only to return moments later when you were both sat across from the Oracle at her large desk.

“I’ll hear your explanation first, seeing as you'd already requested to speak” she said, looking to you.

You nodded, clearing your throat all over again. Fingers twisting in your lap, you tried not to look at Ravus and kept yourself from reaching out to him. You could do this part on your own.

“I never left Ravus,” you said, your eyes wandering as you thought. Was this where you should start? You’d just begun, and you already felt like backtracking. “Well, I never meant to, and I think a lot of this was a big misunderstanding. I left for work, and um.” Your eyes stopped roaming the room, and you mentally scolded yourself for having such difficulty explaining something so simple. “I left to work on the movie, but it was also to get away. From you. I was overwhelmed by… by everything you were expecting out of me.”

The Oracle —Sylva, you told yourself because right now, she was more mother than anything if her look of _disappointment_ was anything to be concerned about— arched her brows. She didn’t appear surprised at what you said, but at the fact that you’d said it to her directly.

Unsure if you wanted to hear what she could have to say to this, you continued hastily. “But I know that, uh, that without your blessing, none of that matters anyway. So, I was hoping to compromise. If you’d hear me out.”

Sylva was almost impossible to read. Not in the same way as Ravus because his expression was so often unchanging. It was difficult in how you weren’t sure if a smile could be a good or bad thing. Her eyes never seemed to soften entirely, not quite guarded but analytical. When she inclined her head, silently asking for you to continue, you untangled your fingers and smoothed your hands down the thighs of your jeans.

“I’m marrying Ravus,” you said, both feeling and sounding more certain than before. “I don’t care when or where, and I’ll do whatever I have to to receive your blessing again.” Swallowing, you clutched your hands at your knees, then lifted a hand quickly, adding, “Anything but retire. That’s not happening. I just started my career, and—” You gave in, shooting a quick glance to Ravus before finishing. “My purpose can’t just be Ravus or the people, but they can be a driving force.”

As you lowered your hand, ending what you hoped was a sensible plea, Sylva looked at Ravus again. It seemed strange to you, the long look she gave him after _you_ had been the one to speak. Was she only humoring you by letting you speak at all? Just when you were about to say something more, she finally spoke.

“I’ve already had this discussion with Ravus.” She looked at you, her smile returning. “You’ll marry within eighteen months. The date is set for spring after next.”

Your eyes fluttered then widened, shooting to Ravus, who’d mentioned nothing about coming to any agreements with the Oracle. “What?”

Sylva didn’t pay any mind to your question, continuing, “You’re no longer obligated to retire, but I do expect you to take to your every responsibility and remain steadfast. I believe you’ll fare well based on what I’ve witnessed of your work ethic, but we will know with certainty in due time.”

Sputtering a little, you couldn’t help interrupting, “S-so, wait, you really— you didn’t retract the blessing?”

For the first time since meeting her on the bridge, her smile grew large enough to touch her eyes, crow’s feet lining her temples. “It was a failed attempt at applying pressure to my son so he would return. Without you…” She looked at Ravus. “The concordance with Altissia would stand.”

Ravus tensed, finally saying something after so much silence. “An agreement more antiquated than St. Aera’s Academy.”

Sylva was quick to respond. “One you were perfectly content with until you took this young woman under your care.”

The relief that had filled you at the good news was somewhat abated by the confusion this caused you. Chewing on your lip, you kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt any further so you could take in as much of the information as you could. It was likely that Ravus wouldn’t tell you later, as dismissive as he could be about things he deemed unimportant.

“I should have realized that was your reasoning behind the oddly timed wedding date,” he said, crossing his arms. “So long as it happens before I’m thirty five, there shouldn’t be any issue. Why wait eighteen months when it can be done in six with time to spare?”

Sylva placed her hands on her desk, linking her fingers together delacately, her arms resting flat. “Claustra closed several of our trade agreements that were linked to the concordance when your engagement began. They were reopened when I announced my retraction.” 

Ravus’ expression eased from its irritation into soft realization. He sighed, his jaw tightening all over again. “You’re milking what you can of it.”

“There’s no need to describe it so crassly,” she softly reprimanded, not sounding all that bothered. When her attention went to you, it startled you to be addressed when you no longer had any idea what was going on. “Because you’re a bit younger than Ravus and quite rebellious in your own way, I’d intended for Claustra to assume you may change your mind at any time prior to the wedding. While I know that not to be the case, it benefits Tenebrae to keep these trade agreements open for as long as we can.”

You were beginning to follow. You thought so, at least. “So, if we got married next week, the trades would end forever?”

Sylva nodded. “So you understand.”

“And if we don’t get married before he turns thirty five?”

“He’ll marry someone the Altissian council chooses,” she said plainly, as if this wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever heard. “Likely an Altissian elite. Someone that would give them a hand in the way things are handled under Ravus’ reign.”

With this information catching up to you and processing, you looked at Ravus again. He considered you with care, taking in your suddenly alarmed expression.

“Does that mean the council in Insomnia will have an advantage when we get married?” You were trying to understand how this worked. Would you be getting prompts from the Citadel about what you should convince Ravus to do that would be advantageous for Lucis?

Ravus dispelled those thoughts immediately, shaking his head. “An amendment was made to Lucian law prior to our engagement. They’re not permitted to interfere.”

Yet another wave of relief washed over you. This was a series of ups and downs you were growing weary of experiencing. If you still had the blessing, technically, and you’d secured not only the wedding but your career, you were done here.

Standing from the plush chair, you excused yourself. “I’ll let you guys talk it out now.” Again, you knew this was rude, but you needed a moment to digest everything. Touching Ravus’ shoulder on your way to the door, you hoped he apologized and made things right with her.

The guards looked at you when you pushed your way through the heavy doors into the corridor. They shut behind you with a solid sound that bounced off the walls. Fighting the last bits of anxiety over the discussion, weakened by the relief, you began walking to the private library. You would’ve went home if you were certain the crowd had dispersed from the station, but it had only been half an hour. You had your doubts and didn’t want to risk it. Even if it had been a welcoming group.

—

The private library was a disaster when you stepped inside. Bookshelves were emptied, books everywhere. Nothing was damaged, but it was messy, as if someone had been looking for a particular book that the library didn’t contain. The condition of the place unsettled you at first, but you made a mental note to just ask Ravus about it later.

Burrowed into the familiar feel and smell of the pillows that made up a considerable layer on the floor of the library, you couldn’t focus on reading. After fifteen minutes of fingering through books without being able to gather interest in a single book, you found one that was tucked away on a higher shelf you always ignored because of its inconvenience. With all of the cleared shelves, you’d found climbing up to get it much easier. Black and unmarked, the book piqued your curiosity immediately.

With it pried from the shelf, you flopped back on the pillows and flipped it open. As suspected, it was a journal. Initial assumption had you think it could only be Luna’s, but you recognized the handwriting the moment you saw it. Either way, you shouldn’t have been reading it at all. Knowing better and not listening to yourself, you went to the earliest entry.

 _M.E. 748_  
_I’m twenty today. Mother has set me on her path, giving me this to use as a collection of thoughts. I don’t see the point._

And it appeared true, the next entry dated two entire years later.

 _M.E. 750_  
_Aranea has lost all sense. She knows I’m abstinent and uninterested, yet she persists. She will grow weary, but it has put a strain on our friendship._

 _M.E. 750_  
_Aranea is threatening to move to Insomnia. I can’t imagine what would benefit her there, but I will not stop her if it means an end to her pursuit of me._

 _M.E. 751_  
_The dunce of a prince is visiting for the equinox festival. The two in his newly-formed retinue are so clearly enamored with one another. A shame. One appears reasonable otherwise. I can’t wish for their departure any more than I do now._

 _M.E. 751_  
_Healing is finally becoming natural, but it remains draining beyond my capabilities. I can’t help but wonder if this calling was meant for Luna despite what mother says._

 _M.E. 753_  
_Twenty five today. A mere decade from my sentence. Should I ever have children, I will never use them as bargaining chips._

 _M.E. 754_  
_I haven’t the proper dedication, mother says. If only I knew precisely what I’m expected to do._

 _M.E. 754_  
_This is the meaning of exhaustion._

 _M.E. 754_  
_It’s better to be alone. I’ve always known this._

 _M.E. 755_  
_Aranea has moved to Insomnia permanently. I thought it ill-advised, but she’s making a show of proving me wrong._

 _M.E. 755_  
_The answer of my true duties continues to elude me. I looked to mother for guidance, and all she spoke of was a catalyst._

 _M.E. 756_  
_Luna has gotten engaged. I fail to understand what she sees in him, but I am supportive for the sake of her happiness._

Every single passage seemed to be equally curt. The journal finished only halfway through, the second half of the pages entirely blank. You read each entry, fascinated by the small glimpses into Ravus’ life over the years. The last passage was just as hard to piece together as the rest, not much connecting into any kind of cohesive narrative. You wondered why it happened to be the last, why he’d decided to stop writing altogether. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d written it almost a year before meeting you.

 _M.E. 756_  
_I’ve found it, the catalyst of which mother spoke. A phone call with Aranea, an altercation of some kind, and a conversation with a troubled woman. I suddenly understand._

You jumped slightly when the library door opened on your second read through. Shoving the journal between a few pillows, you scrambled up to meet Ravus by the door.

“How did it go?” you asked, trying to press back all thoughts of what you’d read.

Ravus appeared slightly worn, but the smallest smile curved a corner of his mouth. “Well, I believe. Are you alright?”

You touched the front of his shirt, tugging at it absently. Over the past days —almost a week— that had passed while traveling with him, you’d grown so comfortable with him, familiarizing yourself all over again and losing all sense of boundaries. Not that you’d let Ravus have many to begin with.

“I’m happy about everything but the agreement thing with Altissia.” You tugged at his shirt harder then. “Why did you lie that time? Y’know, when I asked if I’d have to fight someone to be with you?”

His smile waned into a flat line. “I didn’t lie.”

This wasn’t what you’d intended to talk about right off the bat, but it came out like so much unwanted waste, this sudden distress that you’d repressed after leaving the Oracle’s office.

“You said there was no one else.” Stepping closer, you lifted your chin.

He rose a hand, holding your chin and staring down at you. “There could never be anyone else. Stop fretting over unimportant matters.”

This eased you, partly because Ravus had that power and partly because everything else had worked out so solidly in your favor. He was right; it _was_ unimportant.

“Why didn’t you tell me you finally made a compromise?”

He didn’t hesitate, his expression hard to read. “I didn’t see the point. I’d thought you weren’t coming home.”

You didn’t want to keep turning in circles over this. What mattered was you were there now, and you weren’t going anywhere. Ravus seemed to have the same thought, leaning down to kiss you before letting go of your chin.

“I’m going to my apartment,” you said when he made no move to sit down. “I miss sleeping in my own huge bed.”

A frown pulled at his mouth, his eyes pouring over you. “I’ll escort you.”

“Bring a bag and stay with me,” you suggested, already knowing he wouldn’t do it.

“I have much to make up for here,” he said with a shake of his head. His gaze finally left you to rake over the library. “And… tidying, apparently.”

So he didn’t have a better idea of what had happened. Great, you thought before your mind caught up to what he’d said.

“ _You’re_ gonna clean?” That was a surprise. You couldn’t imagine Ravus walking around, dusting and rearranging.

“No one else has access.”

Peering around yourself, you said, “I think the mess proves that wrong.”

Ravus lifted a hand, tugging yours away from his shirt. “They went through my rooms and used my key to gain entrance, likely in search of me or clues of my whereabouts.”

You nodded, again trying not to think about his old journal. They must’ve really torn through the place because you’d never seen it before in all your years of lounging in here. You felt guilty at getting that glimpse into a younger Ravus’ thoughts, however abruptly written they were. He’d sounded so much more uptight than the man holding your hand now.

— 

Your apartment lights were on when you opened the door. The air was hot and smelled like burning with a hint of basil and tomato sauce. Confused, you walked through the short entranceway and dropped your bag on the sitting room floor.

The knight burst from the kitchen, covered in flour and spices on one of the aprons you owned but never used. She grinned at the sight of you.

“I heard you were returning!” She grabbed one of your hands in both of hers and pulled you into the kitchen. “I made a celebration pizza to welcome you home, my lady.”

Ravus followed after you, and her smile only grew when she looked to him next. The pizza was… something. You were more concerned about why she was cooking in your apartment and not training in the manor.

“What’s going on?” At first, the question was for her, but she became too preoccupied with slicing the pizza. So you looked at Ravus, hoping for something that made sense.

“She’s been residing here since I left,” he explained. “She destroyed her phone when I destroyed mine. She’d wanted to come with me, but I convinced her to stay and take care of your home instead.”

“And I have!” She perked up, setting the pizza cutter down on the counter. “The plants are thriving and everything is clean!” She blinked, her smile waning as she looked around the messy kitchen. “Mostly.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled out of you. Before you could thank her and send her back to the manor with Ravus, she gasped. Suddenly shoving a hand under the collar of her shirt, she pulled out a little pouch that hang from a string around her neck.

“Now that you have returned,” she said, opening it and dumping its contents into her palm. “You must take this back. I’ve fulfilled my duty for your home and your ring.” She thrust it out to you, her look becoming serious.

You could barely keep up, a little startled by the abrupt nature of her right now. Taking the engagement ring you’d asked for her to hold onto, you turned it over with your fingers. Ravus reached for it, but you closed your hand and looked up at him.

“Back off. It’s mine.”

Unamused by you, he grabbed your hand and uncurled your fingers, taking the ring. With gentleness, he slid it onto your finger. It still felt weird, but looking at it didn’t fill you with dread. The knight clapping broke your focus on it, and you leaned into Ravus to fight the horrible warmth that came to your face.

You were so happy to be home.

—

Returning to your life wasn’t a smooth process. Your job on the set for the tv show had been taken almost immediately upon your departure, and you were wary of job offers because a good percentage of them could be people wanting to waste your time. You didn’t want to be trapped into an unexpected interview about your relationship or your past. Or worse, the most perverse of them asking you to reenact the filthy things you’d done in your leaked videos.

So you became a bit of a homebody, splitting your time between your apartment and the manor. When at the manor, you were treated with the same overly formal greetings by everyone that you’d dealt with before leaving. Only now they seemed far less pointed and acidic. Sincere, almost. When at home, you acted like a nudist when it was only you or Ravus about.

It was a nice routine.

The Actor from the movie you’d written had taken your offer of introducing him to the Producer. Between the two, your free time was suddenly eaten up with how often they would come over to bounce ideas with you. It was a refreshing change from the constant work on set, though. You’d made a small fortune from working and writing the movie that you could slowly spend while you tried to come up with your next idea.

Today, they’d brought more people, which meant more ideas but not necessarily better ones. You left them in your apartment, going across the street to the cafe you had briefly worked in to gain a moment of peace and fuel your need for caffeine. You counted three discrete guards just outside your apartment building. Trying to be discrete, at least.

Walking past them without acknowledging that you _knew_ they were there, dressed in civilian clothes so as to not tip you off, you jay-walked across as cars passed and bit back a smile at the rush of footsteps that followed at a distance. You were going to kill Ravus. He’d said he’d consider the idea of no longer sending people out to keep a safe perimeter around your place. He must not have considered it for very long.

The coffee shop was toasty and smelled heavenly, a refuge from the cold, early winter air outside. Waiting to place your order, you peered out the window to see how your bodyguards were doing. It was cold out. Maybe you should buy them something to show your appreciation. They were just doing their jobs. Then again, the fun of it was pretending you had no idea they were there.

Stepping up to the counter, you brushed shoulders with a woman who rose the scarf at her neck to cover the lower half of her face. Astrals, these guards were surprisingly bad at this. You touched her arm, pulling at the scarf until you could see your old Assistant’s blushing face.

“Hey,” you greeted cheerily, throwing your arm over her shoulder. “Come here often? Let me buy you a coffee.”

She shook her head, but you were already pointing at the menu list on the wall behind the barista. “I’ll take two triple espressos.” You ignored the Assistant’s flustered protests as the barista nodded, taking the order. Letting go of her, you paid and then took hold of her sleeve, walking to the pick up area. “So. Keeping me safe, huh?”

“It is my sworn duty,” she said solemnly. It was belied by how red her face was growing. She was a good spy, you had to give her that. She’d tricked you for months. But she had such a hard, obvious tell.

“The Actor’s at my place.” You tapped fingers on the pickup counter. “Wanna come in, say hello?”

She seemed to think about it, quietly grabbing the coffee as it was placed down and you handed it to her.

“It has to be better than hanging around out in the cold,” you pointed out, tugging her toward the exit. “C’mon, you can be my secret bodyguard. I’m gonna make Ravus send the others home.”

“All seventeen?”

You blinked, stopping just outside to stare at her. Seven… teen? You’d only seen three. Breath fogging up in the cold air, you looked around at the people that walked and milled about the quaint little street. You couldn’t place any but the same three who were smoking outside your apartment building. Ravus was going overboard if he really assigned _that_ many guards. How much trouble did he think you were up to on a daily basis?

“Yeah,” you finally answered, your mind heavy with frustration over this information. “If I have to be protected, I only need one person. And that’s you, dude.”

She squared her shoulders, her face looking red plausibly from the cold, though you knew better. She touched something you hadn’t noticed in her ear. It felt so official and important, the way she quietly spoke some Tenebraen phrase that made the three people outside your apartment stall before walking away.

Other people began to move, too, the barista coming out of the coffee shop as they took off their apron and tossed it on one of the empty outdoor tables. You gaped, watching as the street performer to whom you always gave a couple of gil put away his violin and nodded at you as he passed by with the instrument case in hand. They migrated down the street toward the station, presumably to go back to the manor.

“My life is a lie,” you said before taking a long drink of your espresso. “I’m gonna kill Ravus for _sure._ ”

“Kill him?” The Assistant furrowed her brow, following you across the street. “You are the future duchess, so your life is valuable. Everyone knows where you live, my lady. He is protecting you from unsavory individuals.”

You held the main entrance door of your apartment building open for her, a smile coming to you despite your annoyance. “If that’s true, explain the people in my apartment right now.”

—

“He’s just sitting there while she rides him. He has a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a gun in the other. He’s fully clothed, but she’s naked with her huge tits out.” The Actor appeared to be on a roll when you entered your apartment.

The Assistant rolled her eyes, the usual look of distaste at the young Regis lookalike coming to her face. You stopped in the archway to your living room, watching him describe the movie scene.

“So she asks him why he didn’t take his clothes off, and he’s like _I never disrobe before a gunfight._ Then, guys begin to flood the place, and it’s this slow motion—” He paused when he noticed you standing there, his gaze moving between you and the new addition you’d brought. “What’s your mean assistant doing here?”

“Finish describing the scene,” you said, then sent a look to the Assistant. “That movie is straight up trash”

“Hey.” He walked over to you, taking your coffee cup. “I was an extra in that movie. Changed my life.”

Before he could take a drink from it, the Assistant grabbed it from him and stepped between you. “Keep a distance.”

The Actor started, probably because, to him, she suddenly had a Tenebraen accent. But he eased a moment later, smiling down at her. “I missed you, kid. Missed having someone put me in my place.”

She said nothing, handing the coffee back to you and drinking from her own. When you gave her a smile, she looked warily around the room and took one of the few open seats. As you all began to brainstorm again, she watched and listened, not offering input unless you asked for it. The Actor made her frown on a constant, and after two more ridiculous, half-written scenes played out into the afternoon, she made a call that you didn’t hear because she took it in the kitchen.

The Actor held you close, his arm at your waist, his free hand holding a script. “This is wrong in every way. I know you were programmed for me, but…” He let the script fall and ran fingers down your cheek. “A man and a robot? It’s—”

“What’s going on here?”

The sharp interruption made you freeze, the voice deep and hard. Peeking up, you pushed out of the Actor’s grip and turned to Ravus standing in the archway.

“Ravus!” You tossed the single-paper script onto the coffee table, rushing to him. He wasn’t meant to visit until later in the week. He’d said he was far too busy. This was the best surprise. Leaping at him with a hug, it wasn’t until you were pressed against his hard chest, looking up at him that you realized his attention was focused on a glare at someone.

It could’ve been directed at anyone in the room. Ravus’ gaze was sweeping and sharp. You pulled back, introducing him to everyone there, even the few he’d already met before.

“I’m _obsessed_ with you and your fiancée, darling,” the Producer said, holding his hand out for Ravus to kiss.

Ravus stared him down, making no move to take it. After a prolonged moment of this, you reached up to touch Ravus’ jaw, catching his attention.

“We’re having a brain jam. Just shooting off ideas.” You felt the need to explain yourself because you’d never thought he’d be around for one of these sessions. You were a little embarrassed at what he’d see or hear. It didn’t matter that you’d shown him your worst. This was a creative outlet he hadn’t exactly been privy to for a _reason._ “Sorry you came down the mountain for nothing.”

“Aw, don’t make him leave,” the Actor said. “Let mister grumpy hang out. He can read a few lines with us.”

Ravus visibly bristled at the nickname given to him, but he kept his gaze locked on you. He didn’t want to leave, you could read that in the way he gently touched your waist. But he couldn’t stay! These were two wires in your life that you hadn’t planned to cross.

“Didn’t peanut gallery play a part in one of your movies? Are you saying you trusted him to read your lines more than the prince here?”

You looked over your shoulder at the Actor, hoping he’d shut up. “On a student film. It was nothing.”

“What is he talking about?” Ravus asked, looking just as unsettled as he had when first walking in.

The Actor smiled, all too happy to have caught Ravus’ attention. He picked up the script you’d tossed down and walked toward you. “Her ex-boyfriend, Ignis? He was in one of her movies.”

You scowled at him then, taking the paper from him. “Who cares? This isn’t the same thing at all.”

“It’s not a big deal to let mister grumpy try,” he said, stepping back when he glanced over your shoulder at whatever face Ravus must’ve been making at him. “If he reads your part, it’s just two words. Give him that much.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

Ravus snatched the paper from your hand, his eyes hard on you when you quickly turned to him. “I can read a mere two words.”

You tried to take the paper back, but he held it out of reach. He couldn’t read this script. This was just for fun, and you didn’t want him to see the absolute trash, the throwaway ideas you came up with during these sessions that would never actually get used.

Sending a quick look around the room, you wished the Actor hadn’t brought up Ignis being in one of your movies. This soft, retroactive jealousy on Ravus’ part was rare, and you didn’t know what to do other than entertain it. It only seemed fair after all the times he’d entertained your requests.

“Okay,” you relented with a shrug. This was going to embarrass him more than you, anyway. You sat down, waving for Actor to take point in front of the prince. Keeping your eyes on Ravus, you watched him finally look at the script. You’d highlighted the line because you’d found it abhorrent. Exactly what worked in alternative comedy. You could pinpoint exactly when he found it because he frowned, his eyes narrowing sharply.

“Scene,” the Producer said, snapping his fingers. It was entirely unnecessary, but he couldn’t stand not being the center of attention every few minutes.

“A man and a robot? It’s insane,” Actor recited, laying on a thick layer of false worry. “I know what I feel is real, and you’re the first prototype that can help propagate the human race, but I need to know… that you want it, too.”

Ravus looked from the Actor to the script in his hand, then to you. His frown grew deeper, his brows furrowing. You nodded at him, urging him on, but he only continued to stare, saying nothing.

Crossing your arms, you said, “It’s merely two words. Isn’t that what you said? Just read the line.”

He scowled, glaring down at the paper. It crumpled a little in his hand when he looked at the Actor next. He cleared his throat, as if that would somehow make it easier for him to say.

“Inseminate me.”

There was a lull before the room erupted with both laughter and chatter. Ravus closed his eyes, his brows meeting in abject irritation. The Assistant stood up, walking to him with a frown of her own.

“Apologies, sire,” she said. “I hadn’t thought you would join us yourself in this preposterous—”

Ravus held up a hand and opened his eyes, shaking his head. Handing her the paper, he went to you. “Give me a less humiliating role.”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

He crossed his arms. “I would like a role in your next project, preferably something much less absurd.”

Standing up, you touched his arm and let a slow smile come to your face. So the mild jealousy was sticking around. Did he really want to take part in your work just because Ignis had before? You didn’t measure your men in how well they could act.

“Alright.” You nodded, thoroughly amused now. “I’ll make a part for you, papa-gâteau.”

Leaning up, you kissed his cheek before backing away. The others were already working on the next scene that wouldn’t —and shouldn’t— ever see the screen. You went back to the open brainstorm, messy ideas coming together. Ravus took your seat, and you looked over to him occasionally, a little impressed at how well he handled that.

If he could say something like that without _much_ issue, surely he could say a few lines in your next movie.

—

Too bad he chose to make a fuss over every other thing he didn’t like.

“Your name on the script is _Nipples._ It’s insulting.” He waved this script around. It was freshly printed and several pages larger than the last.

“It’s a joke,” you told him, flipping through your own copy.

“A bad one.”

You ignored the laughs from the others. This was becoming a fast reminder of why you didn't mix your personal and professional lives if you could help it. You wouldn’t want the Actor coming to the manor and telling you how to behave on a silent day. It was the same thing, and you were already mentally taking back your promise to let Ravus be in your next movie.

“If it bothers you so much,” you said, handing the script off to the Assistant. “She can be Nipples. I’ll direct.”

That didn’t seem to be any better. The Assistant gave you wide eyes, immediately holding the script out for you to take back. “My lady, please. I don’t want to be Nipples.”

“Nipples is the hero,” you assured her, pushing the script back toward her.

The Actor affected a gasp from across the room. “I thought I was the hero.”

“You’re not helping.” You sent him a glare before giving the Assistant a reassuring smile. “What do you want to be called? We can just use your actual name.”

She looked down at the script, her face as red as ever. “It’s not the name. It’s the content.”

You fought a sigh. She’d been there for hours now; she knew exactly what lowbrow jokes took up the pages, and she chose to pass judgement _now?_

Looking up from the script, she rolled it in her hands. “You’d really be alright with me saying this to Prince Ravus?”

That threw you off slightly. In this session, you were exploring senseless romance tropes. You weren’t sure what could be so objectionable about what you’d written. Putting a hand on her shoulder, you said, “You’re the best actor here. Just say the damn lines.”

She nodded, swallowing and sending Ravus an uncertain glance. When the scene began with you waving a hand to show that you wanted them to start, she straightened her back and read it perfectly.

“Confess what thee shall, but know that it won’t saveth thy life, sir from the future.” Even with the terribly constructed Old Lucian, she was a natural, as expected when one was a spy for the Oracle.

Ravus, on the other hand, was stiff and awkward. “If I’m to die regardless, I’d like to hear your confession first.”

The Assistant crossed an arm over her chest as she spoke. “Good now, sir. At which hour thee beholds me with those lovely eyes, mine own nipples become akin to the hard ice yond wracks our landscape. Anon, shall thee not confess?”

Ravus was so uncomfortable, he appeared almost hostile. This was the worst idea you’d ever had. You should’ve listened to your gut and forced him out of your apartment when he’d arrived. Better yet, you should’ve forced the others out so you could spend time with him instead.

“I…” Ravus looked from the Assistant to you. He relaxed, his tense shoulders falling and his frown easing. “I would do anything for you.”

Warmth overtook your chest, and you fought it down, prompting him with a whisper. “Say the rest.”

When he looked down at the script, he tensed all over again while reading the rest of the line. You appreciated that he was willing to play along with all of this. Once he got over his moment of retroactive jealousy, he’d make everyone leave. Until then, you were going to work on coming up with a way to nicely let him know he’s far too terrible an actor to be in any of your serious projects.

As the Actor joined the scene to execute Ravus, the prince blocked his fake attack with a very real grab to the other man’s throat. You dropped the script, rushing to set the guy free.

Yeah… this wasn’t something Ravus needed to prove. You already knew he’d do anything for you.

—

You turned the journal over in your hands, the worn leather soft and supple. The pages were layered with old memories, a reminder of what you’d had with Ignis once. You didn’t open it, tucking the little ribbon attached to it between a few pages in the middle. Looking up from it, you sent Ravus a smile. He rose a brow as he crossed the room to you. He’d stayed overnight after forcing everyone to leave your place.

It was mid morning, the early winter sun gentle through the windows. He hadn’t gotten dressed yet, his bare chest meeting your back as he drew you close. “Still deliberating over it?”

You stared down at the journal, chewing on your inner cheek. After talking it through with him, mulling through your feelings and accepting the reality of the situation, you knew you had to get rid of it. Even if Ignis decided to throw it away, you couldn’t keep it anymore.

“No, I’m gonna mail it to him tomorrow.”

Ravus’ fingers dug lightly into your sides, his hair tickling your shoulder as his lips brushed your neck. He smelled like the pancakes you’d messily made together earlier in the morning. “Today is just as well. We could visit the general post on the way to the manor.”

You turned your head, your nose meeting his. The position was awkward and intimate, and it made you giggle. “Help me wrap it?”

Ravus leaned over you, pulling you flush against him. His chest was warm against your back, a comforting presence you sank into. “You have to do it on your own.” He kissed your cheek before letting you go. “I’m going to prepare for the day.”

You waited until you heard the shower kick on before you went for the packaging material you’d already bought. It had seemed fitting to wrap it up like a parcel in brown, unassuming paper like it had been when Ignis had mailed it to you originally. Debating between his home address and his office, you chose to send it to his place in the city. It was too personal, something you wanted to give him the privacy of his home to unwrap when he received it.

As the journal disappeared behind the layers of brown paper, so did your anxiety over it, over all of it. This was the last physical tie you had to him, and it was this that you had to give back to let your mind finally move on, catching up to where your heart already rested, far past this old love and pain.

Tying it up neatly, you left it on the kitchen counter to be picked up on your way out later. For now… you had a prince in your shower just waiting to be pestered. Slipping out of the oversized shirt you wore, you quietly barged into the bathroom and tossed it to the floor.

“So, papa-gâteau,” you said, pulling the shower curtain back just enough to peek at him. He was standing under the running water, arms up and fingers running through his wet hair. You stepped in, shivering a little at the shift from the cold air to the heat of the water that misted over you. “I wanna talk about all the guards you have looking after me.”

He slowly lowered his arms, a frown on his face. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“Seventeen, though?” Your eyes ate at his form in front of you, even as you crossed your arms.

His brows arched, his expression easing with soft surprise. “A fair number for what trouble you may cause.”

You dropped your arms, shoving him uselessly. Your hands slipped along his wet skin, and he grabbed your wrists, pulling you to him. Your laugh bounced off the tiled walls. “You’ve just been making a bunch of people listen to us have sex for weeks now. You know that, right?”

Water dripped from his hair onto your chest as he bent to kiss you. “They’re well paid.” His lips pried at yours, teasing and hotter than the water that steamed the air. “Stop thinking of them when I’m attempting to seduce you.”

Another laugh tumbled out of you, and you almost lost your footing on the slippery floor of the tub as you leaned up to kiss him back. You weren’t going to mention having them sent home already. He’d realize it later, and you wanted to be loud with the knowledge that it would _only_ be your neighbors who heard you this time.

* * *

Technically Ravus wasn’t allowed into Insomnia until the new year began, but King Regis gave him the eve to arrive and make his appearance at the ball. Ravus didn’t seem to care one way or the other about it, but you were ecstatic to return to Insomnia with your life _together_ for once. Being the first time you’d shown up as someone who mattered and not just a friend of Noctis and company, you rode north with Ravus in the cortège that picked you up in Galdin Quay.

Stepping out of the discreetly armored vehicle, stretching your sore limbs from sitting for so long, you looked up the long flight of stairs to the grand entrance of the Citadel. It gave you the same level of disquiet as it always had. You were meant to curl an arm around Ravus’ to let him lead you up to meet Noctis and the others at the top of the stairs. Instead, you grabbed his hand, using your other to smooth down your Oracle-issued plainclothes.

All the royal tailor had done was add the Oracle crest to everything you planned to wear for the trip. You touched the patch sewn onto the left side of your coat, not used to it yet. Sylva had said it was important that you have it while visiting since you were representing their family now. As if you hadn’t permanently branded yourself already.

You almost stumbled up the steps, your attention focused on the patch. Ravus let go of your hand and caught you by the waist, steadying you. You smiled sheepishly up at him, bumping into him with your shoulder as you leaned into him a little for the rest of the ascent.

Luna was the first to hug you at the peak of the staircase. Her bony arms squeezed you to her tightly, and you smiled at Noctis over her shoulder. You barely had time to disengage yourself from her when Prompto was hugging you next. With the stiff way Ravus greeted everyone but Luna, you realized that everything that had happened so far was all sorts of inappropriate. He didn’t seem to mind, though, none of his usual sighs following each hug you gave the greeting committee.

Except for the last person standing. You froze when you came to the end of the line, looking up at Ignis hesitantly. He inclined his head with a polite nod, no trepidation in his own appearance.

“Welcome.” His tone was even, betraying no emotion, if he had any, at seeing you again. He gave Ravus the exact same greeting, his attention immediately shifting to his watch when Noctis asked if there was time left for a few rounds of King’s Knight before dinner.

You covered a yawn with the back of your hand, tired from travel but knowing you were too excited to sleep just yet. “A dinner just for us?” Dropping your hand, you grinned at Gladio, who stood nearest you. “You shouldn’t have.”

Gladio grinned back. “We didn’t. His Majesty did.”

You straightened yourself, unintentionally tensing. “Really?”

Noctis nodded, catching your attention. “Yeah, he wants to meet you officially as Ravus’...”

“He wishes to meet you as the future duchess,” Luna spoke up, putting a hand on Noct’s arm that eased the look of discomfort that had crossed his face.

You looked between them. “Even though my coronation is a long way off?”

Luna tilted her head. “Is there any doubt?”

Chewing on your lip, you looked up at Ravus for a moment. He met your gaze readily, not answering for you. A blush began to burn at your cheeks, and you looked away, facing Luna again with a smile. “Nope.”

It stood to reason that you’d have to meet the Important People eventually. You’d been good at weaving around and getting out of meeting King Regis or any of the higher council members for years now. You couldn’t elude them forever, and after everything that had happened to you, it was a wonder you hadn’t been confronted by the king himself already.

Turning to Ravus again, you said, “I need to change before dinner. I can’t meet the king wearing this.”

He peered you over, then looked at Ignis. “Are we to stay in my usual rooms?”

Ignis nodded, his eyes meeting yours for the barest moment. “They should be ready for you now.”

When you smiled at him as a thanks because this seemed like a pretty menial task for him to coordinate —you’d never been aware of the full threshold of his job— he turned toward Noctis and finally answered his original question. “Yes, there is time to play King’s Knight. Lord Ravus and his guest need to freshen up from their travels.”

As much as you’d anticipated this, Ignis not even using your name threw you just the slightest. It… didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. The advisor was good at swiftly shifting his attention to what mattered, and you let him do it without allowing your feelings to get hurt.

You turned your smile to Ravus. “Gonna take me to your rooms or what?”

His expression remained unchanged in its stern manner, but he stepped a little closer. “Impatient, are you?”

Grasping at the front of his robes, you tugged lightly, drawing yourself even closer to him. “I need to get out of these sweaty clothes.”

He didn’t fall for your lidded eyes and lowered voice, his hands prying yours from his robes and holding them gently. “Our luggage is unlikely to be in our rooms so soon.”

That did nothing to stop your flirty grin, your voice lowering even further. “So I’ll wear nothing.”

“Aright, later,” Noctis suddenly interjected uncomfortably, turning away to walk toward the entrance.

You pulled away from Ravus, laughing with Prompto and following the others inside. Heavy public displays were still highly inappropriate and keeping it to handholding and chaste affection was all you’d compromised with the Oracle back when you’d been seeking her blessing.

You knew better than to tease Ravus publicly, especially with Luna right there, but that only made it more satisfying when you succeeded in making his stoic face soften.

—

Your hands were sweaty when you met King Regis, and you were thankful when he did nothing more than greet you and ask a couple of inane questions before moving on. The dining hall was busy with bodies, both staff and guests, and you followed Ravus to where you were meant to be seated. You had no idea what you were doing and kept to his side to make sure no one assumed you shouldn’t be there.

With the mark of the Oracle on the shirt you’d changed into, you knew you shouldn’t have felt that way. Still, the feeling persisted, only waning into relief when you felt Ravus take your hand in his own. A subtle, comforting gesture.

Clarus Amicitia stepped into your path, appearing out of nowhere like an opponent in a video game. You almost bumped into Ravus when he stopped, nodding at the man’s greeting. When the shield addressed you next, by name no less, you felt your face begin to burn with a blush.

“You know who I am?” It came out before you could stop it. Immediately biting your lips, you squeezed Ravus’ hand tighter. “I-I mean, it’s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”

Clarus nodded, eyeing you with mild curiosity for a moment before excusing himself to greet someone else. He still looked amazing for someone old enough to be your dad— for someone who was _older_ than your dad. You watched him disappear in the somewhat crowded dining hall, only moving when Ravus pulled you along with him.

Ravus said nothing as he drew back your chair and pushed it in for you a moment later. With a look around, you realized how close to the king you and Ravus were actually sitting. Prompto waved from the other side of the table, directly across from you. You waved back, both of you revealing just how common you were, surely.

At this point, you were waiting for everyone else to sit so you could eat. There had been no stop between Galdin Quay and Insomnia so you were becoming impatient with all of these nobles and their pageantry. It didn’t help that you had to get ready for the new year’s ball right after. It was going to be a long night.

Turning to Ravus, you paused when you caught him narrowing his eyes at you. You reached across the short space between you, touching his hand. “What’s up?”

“You have a crush.”

With a slow blink, you shook your head. “What?”

“You fancy the king’s shield.” Ravus rose a brow, his fingers curling around yours in his lap.

“No, I don’t.” Your face burned redder, out of humiliation that Ravus would just confront you about it rather than any truth in his statement. Clarus Amicitia literally never crossed your mind unless you saw or heard mention of him, which, living in Tenebrae, was pretty much never. “He’s just… kinda handsome, I guess.”

Ravus seemed perplexed by this. “Is that so?”

A member of the Citadel’s kitchen staff leaned between you, pouring water into your glass. You waited until they moved on to lean closer to Ravus and say, “Am I detecting jealousy, papa-gâteau?”

He lifted his chin a little, looking down at you. “I don’t want you to look at any other man.” He said it with total seriousness, but the slight upward curve at the corner of his mouth was telling.

You looked away, fighting a smile of your own. Turning your head slowly, you said, “Too bad. I’m looking at so many men right now.” Your eyes skimmed past Prompto and Gladio to stop on Noctis who was only now taking his seat. “Wow, I never noticed how Noct’s… uh, hair falls so nicely over his eyes.”

The prince looked your way at hearing his name, and you pursed your lips in a kissing motion. Recoiling slightly, he shook his head and looked away. Next to him, Gladio sent you a confused glance.

You winked at him before turning to Ravus again. “And that’s not even counting all the _women_ I can see.”

Ravus let go of your hand, lifting his to grasp your chin. He leaned down, close enough that his lips almost brushed yours as he spoke. “Can I not trust you to behave tonight?”

You smiled, resisting the urge to close the remaining distance. Your voice came out in a breathy whisper, your eyes falling closed. “You’re the one being improper.”

You waited for a kiss that didn’t come. Ravus let go before leaning back. Your eyes slowly opened, meeting his and then falling away, a renewed blush coming to your face. Of course he wouldn’t. It wasn’t allowed, and as much as finally sleeping together had broken down his boundaries, he wasn’t going to kiss you in front of every important face in Insomnia.

—

Your gown for the ball had a long slit up one of the sides, ending mid-thigh. It was with the intent to seem every bit as scandalous as your reputation was apparently painting you out to be. Secretly, though, you had your gun strapped to your thigh and wanted easy access. This was for one reason only: the Oracle had mentioned that the Altissian council planned to send their candidate to the ball. The one that would marry Ravus if you didn’t wed before his thirty fifth birthday. You had no idea who she could be or what she looked like, but you planned to duel her if she decided to get in your way.

The ballroom swayed with bodies, and you moved among them with Noctis. He was a better lead than you could’ve anticipated, his movements easy and smooth. He didn’t try for any fancy moves, not dipping you or twirling when the others around you did. It was easier to talk when face to face.

“I don’t think he’s gonna betray him,” you said, scoffing a little at his suggestion.

“He totally will.” Noctis shook his head, remaining adamant on his point. “Just watch. He’s the one in the mask.”

You’d finally caught up on all of the comic book series you’d neglected. Telling Noctis this has spurred a conversation about one particular series you both loved. He had a lot to say about what would happen next, apparently. You didn’t agree with any of it. The writers had left little clues for something completely different that you could clearly see in your binge reading that Noctis must’ve overlooked.

Your argument, ready and full formed in your mind, didn’t make it out of your mouth. Your attention was caught by something over his shoulder. Ravus swayed along the dance floor in time with the other guests, the long white coat of his robes flowing slightly with each movement. His partner, a woman who most certainly wasn’t Luna, who you’d seen him begin the dance with, laughed at something he said, leaning into him.

“Who is that?” You fought against Noctis’ lead, turning both of you around so he’d be forced to see. “Who the hell is that dancing with Ravus?”

Noctis glanced over your shoulder, not trying very hard to get a good look. “I forgot her name. Some diplomat from Altissia. She’s new.”

Again, you spun both of you around. This time you were met with a frown from Noctis, one of his feet stepping on yours. You ignored it, eyes trailing Ravus and the woman before they disappeared into the dancing crowds. He didn’t just dance with anyone. It had to be the woman the council sent to seduce him.

“I can’t believe Ravus is dancing with her.” It came out so much more biting than intended.

Noctis shrugged, your hand on his shoulder losing grip for a moment before you reinforced it. He winced a little, saying, “Maybe they know each other. He did live in Accordo for half a year.”

That was a possibility you hadn’t considered, but it was worthy speculation. Back when touring Accordo, he’d vaguely mentioned, once or twice, the coordinator he’d been assigned to travel with. The Altissian council were fucking evil geniuses if that had been their plan all along.

Because you wanted to prove, at least to yourself, that you had some amount of decorum, you waited until the song ended before ditching Noctis. You weaved your way through the ballroom, eyes peeling for Ravus. A vague sense of worry had begun to fester in the back of your mind. The familiar tones of the chamber orchestra, the beautiful Insomnian formal wear, the twinkling chandeliers. You felt an uncomfortable sense of deja vu when you finally spotted Ravus and the woman— how _dare_ she stick around him after their dance.

Narrowing your eyes and rolling your shoulders, you approached them with as much grace you could muster. This situation wasn’t the same, but it was similar enough. You’d had your heart broken during this same party years before, in this same ballroom. It wasn’t happening again.

“Papa-gâteau,” you greeted, probably louder than was necessary.

Ravus looked from the woman to you, his expression unchanging. “Ma crevette. Come to dance?”

Was he really going to just blow the woman off like that? It wasn’t all that surprising, coming from him, but it also felt like a cheap way of getting out of introducing you to her. Suspicious.

“Yeah,” you said plainly, then met eyes with the woman. “ _I heard you’re from Altissia_ _?"_

She smiled, nodding. “ _From an eastern province in—_ ”

 _“That’s nice,"_  you cut her off, not wanting to hear her life story. _“Would you like to dance?"_

She arched her brows, looking to Ravus whose eyes had yet to leave you. Then, as her smile grew a little, she nodded again. _"I would love to."_

You led her onto the dance floor, completely ignoring Ravus in favor of analyzing the woman now coursing the ballroom with you. She was a little taller than you, in comparatively better shape, and had a very pretty face. You fought a scowl at the horrible little ripple of jealousy that burned in you. This was unfamiliar territory, something you’d only felt a few times in the past.

 _“Did the Altissian council send you?”_ You kept eye contact, your hand at her waist tightening a little as you circled together smoothly.

She appeared confused for a moment before answering. _“Yes, of course.”_

You did your best not to grind your teeth, feeling like she was purposely missing the point of what you’d asked. Of course the council sent her if she was a diplomat. She wasn’t answering the actual question at all.

Pulling her closer, you matched the pace of the music with slightly more sensual movements, her waist falling flush to yours. She gasped lightly but let you lead her about, holding onto your shoulder and hand tightly as you went. You had no idea how to challenge her to a duel. You didn’t _want_ to challenge her, but you had to, right? That’s how these things went, apparently.

When the song began to crescendo, you dipped her, harder than intended. One of her feet slipped, her heel wobbling on the polished marble, but you were able to hold her up, your arm barely straining because she was _that_ light and balanced on her feet. Your hand that held hers went to your thigh, and you let go of her hand to press her palm into your gun concealed there, just underneath your gown.

 _“Do you feel that?”_ Even as the words left your mouth, it was oddly sexual, given the dance and the position. It wasn’t the feeling you wanted to convey at all. Still, you pressed on. _“That’s a loaded firearm. If you pursue Ravus, I won’t hesitate.”_

She blinked rapidly, her mouth falling open, then closing again without a word. Her hand on the gun twitched, trying to pull away.

 _“I know it’s your job,”_ you said, righting her before letting her go. _“But Ravus taught me that killing is sometimes necessary.”_

As she smoothed down her dress, her breath picking up as her eyes avoided yours, you began to wish you had a dagger or something else that you could’ve more appropriately threatened her with. Something you could’ve pressed into her side painfully as you danced instead of the erotic undertones you’d accidentally applied to the threat. For a moment, you worried that she’d think it was an empty statement, and you touched your thigh, ready to pull the gun out. But she quickly nodded.

 _“I understand,”_ she said. _“I was told you were younger, and with how much time Prince Ravus and I spent together in Accordo, I thought that he might…”_

You were thankful she didn’t finish her sentence, not wanting to think about it. You hadn’t ever considered Ravus being interested in someone else. Him being uninterested in anyone at all, sure, that seemed likely, but not _this._ Chewing on your lip, you forced your gaze away, looking around at the bodies that continued to circle you in swaying patterns.

 _“Did he ever flirt with you?”_ You couldn’t fathom why you were even asking this, and it took a hard swallow of your pride to look at her after it left your mouth.

Her brows were arched, eyes a little wide. _“I… don’t know. I don’t really understand him. He was kind. That’s all I know.”_

Lifting your hand to the hourglass that hang from your neck, you touched it with a light grip and let the thrill of it course through you. This was a little ridiculous, and you knew it. But you had to make sure she understood because you really didn’t want to have to fight her.

 _“That’s too bad,”_ you said, following her eyes as they went to the ring on your hand that held the hourglass. _“He was mean to me for the longest time. He’s the tough love type. I guess he was never that into you.”_

At that, she furrowed her brow, her arms lifting to cross over her chest. Not the reaction you’d been counting on, the earlier traces of her discomfort becoming annoyance. _“I'm not afraid to fight if it’s a duel you really want.”_

You almost slapped your forehead. This wasn’t playing out right at all. Channeling your exasperated feelings into a hard look, you shifted your dress enough to reveal your gun strapped to your thigh. It also revealed part of your garter belt, but you paid no attention to the few people whose attention it caught.

 _“Haven’t you heard? I don’t duel. I shoot people at parties.”_ You began to take it from the holster, but she shook her head again, loosening her arms to hold a hand out.

 _“No, no.”_ She slowly lowered her hand when you lifted yours away. You straightened your leg so your dress would fall over to conceal the weapon again. Her eyes met yours warily now. _“I can’t tell if you’re simply irrational or if this is a normal thing for Lucian commoners.”_

You rolled your eyes and began to realize that you weren’t going to fully dissuade her. She’d been chosen for this and until you married Ravus, she was probably going to keep doing what the Altissian council assigned her. Even if it was something as rude as attempting to steal someone else’s fiancé.

 _“Okay,”_ you relented, hating how all of this was making you feel. _“Fight me. I’ll get the royal marshal, and he’ll show us to a training room.”_

Her expression slackened. She stared at you, a stretch of silence following because she was waiting for you to say you were bluffing. When you glared at her, she hardened again, the annoyance back on her face. _“Swords, not guns.”_

You shrugged, knowing that she had the right to decide, being the person challenged. You turned away to begin the search for Cor Leonis. You’d seen him earlier with a few crownsguard and hoped he was still in the same area because you wanted to get this over with. It didn’t feel fair to you that you had to do this at all. Ravus had already made up his mind. This antiquated practice might’ve seemed romantic to most, but you had absolutely zero patience for it.

As you walked away from her, you slowed, catching sight of Ravus through the dancers. He eyed you carefully, his expression hard to read. It was obvious he’d been watching the entire exchange between you and the woman. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care what he thought. If he had anything to say, it would only be hypocritical.

He’d been ready to duel for you at this very party, not long ago. You were just, maybe ironically, making sure you went about it with much more grace than he had back then.

—

People had followed from the ballroom, though few were permitted into the training room to spectate. The ornate nature of the place differed heavily from the bare walls and massive windows that had made up the training rooms in Fenestala Manor. The tall suits of armor made you feel smaller than you liked.

You’d been granted the time to change, wearing comfier clothes than the ball gown as you stood in front of the woman, sword in hand. Your eyes kept going to Ravus, who stood alongside your friends and the royal marshal. There were others present, but they fell to the wayside of your focus. It was for the better because you were slightly nervous.

Glancing at Ravus, you tried to get a read on his expression with no luck. After the Oracle had mentioned the Altissian council would likely send the woman to raise doubt in your relationship, Ravus had told you to disregard it. He’d found it an empty warning said by the Oracle only to make you work harder at behaving properly during the festivities. You’d almost thought he was right. As you faced the woman now, he’d clearly been mistaken.

You bit a little too hard on your inner cheek, the pain of it jolting you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head a little to regain yourself, you looked at the woman and lifted the sword between both hands. She was finally ready, it seemed, staring at you with her own weapon in hand.

This would be the first time you’d use a real sword. You felt nerves coil your stomach into painful knots, hands threatening to ruin your grip with sweat. Per Cor’s order, it had to end when first blood was drawn. You hoped that meant it ended quickly.

Silence welled as the small audience quieted, and a nod was shared between you to confirm that you were ready. The woman moved directly toward you almost immediately. The mat thudded quietly with her boots, a contrast to your bare feet. You weren’t so much lithe as you were quick, evading the first swing of her sword fairly easily. Not wearing shoes was probably a disadvantage, but you’d trained that way with Ravus and sought comfort in what was familiar.

Legs bent, sword wobbling slightly in your hands, you kept your balance in the sudden squat and watched the woman let out a hard breath as she righted herself. You didn’t make a move to attack, a little paranoid you’d accidentally kill her if you thrust the sword a little too hard. You hadn’t been joking when you’d told her you wouldn’t hesitate. Jealousy still burned in your veins, the lingering image of her leaning into Ravus on the dance floor still flitting through your mind as she lunged for you again.

You grit your teeth, rolling back and away from her sword. The fact that Ravus even _allowed_ her to do that with him while they danced was the source of your uncomfortable feelings. He was _your_ grumpy man. If he let others hang off of him, even briefly, even people he was apparently well acquainted with, then you were no longer special.

Kicking a foot out, you caught the back of her knee. Her leg buckled, and she stumbled, blocking your sword with her own just before you could bring it down on her shoulder. The clang of the blades against each other made your arms rattle, the feeling weird and heavy in your bones. You were swinging harder than necessary, and she scowled up at you, realization coming to her face.

She knocked you back, forcing your sword away with her own. Lifting herself, she stepped toward you again, always direct in her action, you noticed. It was similar to Ravus’ fighting style in that way, no wasted time on theatrics. The woman was fast, but you were faster. She thrust her sword forward, aimed for your stomach. You let yourself fall back, bare feet keeping you balanced as you arched your sword upward, clashing it against hers in a movement that was less deft than you’d intended, but did its job all the same of knocking the point of her sword away from your middle. It gave you the opening you wanted. You rose a leg and kicked her in the stomach, coming down hard with the heel of your foot. She coughed, her face morphing into surprise as she stumbled back, dropping to her knees.

She opened her mouth to say something, but you gave her no room, swinging at her hands. A thought in your mind told you this was it, that it was over. You’d drawn first blood as she let her sword drop, a loud hiss falling out of her mouth. Ignoring it, you brought the hilt of your sword to her head in one swift jerk, the blunt end of it smashing into her temple. She dropped back, a soft cry falling out of her that finally did make you falter. You froze just as you were steadying your sword above her, holding the point over her neck, the tip digging lightly into her soft skin. Her hands were bloody, the cut across her knuckles light but staining the blade all the same as she tried to force the sword away from her throat.

You were pulled back by a hard grip on your shoulder, the sword taken from you by another set of hands. Being led away from the woman, you closed your eyes tightly, fighting the feelings swirling in your mind and stomach. You’d won. You’d put on a show to hopefully avoid having to do this ever again. People already considered you a fair number of things that weren’t true. Adding _unstable and jealous_ was hardly a stretch.

If you didn’t put your foot down on this immediately, you had a feeling you’d get caught up in the performative nature of it all. Ravus had warned that duels could be reduced to mere spectacle, and you refused to let your bitter feelings be another’s entertainment. You didn’t _want_ to have to defend your place in Ravus’ life to people who, in your opinion, had no right to question or test your relationship in the first place.

Opening your eyes, you slowed to a stop as the hand guiding you by the shoulder finally fell away. Your friends were a range of encouraging and excited looks on the edge of the large room, Luna being the first to step forward and gently touch your arm. Arms feeling heavy, fingers tense, you finally met Ravus’ gaze. He stood next to you, being the one to draw you away from the fight. His face was as hard to decipher as ever.

You stepped toward him, pressing your forehead to his chest and letting out a heavy breath. You suddenly felt exhausted despite the fight only lasting a few minutes. Your hands touched the front of his robes, tracing over the fancy stitching. Your grip loosened when he lifted your head, his hands cupping your face.

His silver brows were furrowed, eyes sharp on you. As much as you’d tried, you knew you still hadn’t dueled the right way. You’d went past the rule of stopping at first blood and let your thoughts of jealousy drive you for a moment too long. Prepared for a reprimand, you were startled when he leaned down, smashing his lips to yours.

Needing a second to catch up, you grasped at him harder, leaning up into the firm press of his mouth. You let the kiss consume you, one of his hands dropping to your waist to draw you firmly against him. Over the sudden cheering of a few of your friends, you were washed in Ravus’ calming magic, his presence putting you at ease and his lips working against yours in an electric tandem made to soothe.

—

The first meal of the new year was brunch taken quietly in a smaller dining room with Noctis and Luna. You drank coffee as Ravus slowly worked through a pastry. It was a formality, the two future kings made to conference in a show of good relations. They didn’t speak to each other, Noctis sleepily continuing your conversation about comic books from across the table while Ravus read the newspaper and Luna contented herself with soft, dreamy looks out the nearest window.

“Do you think you would’ve done it?” she suddenly spoke up, interrupting the nearly incoherent wall of mumble-speak you’d formed with Noctis. All three of you looked at her, and she smiled softly. “Finished her in the duel, I mean to say.”

It took you a moment to consider what she meant. Ravus had stopped you, and the marshal had taken your sword for good measure. It was for the best because you might have killed her, sure. You couldn’t be certain, but it was possible. The thought of actually driving a blade into someone disgusted you, but you wanted to be respected, and your unfamiliarity with feelings of jealousy meant you hadn’t been processing it very well.

In the end, it had culminated into a sweaty night spent in the guest suite’s bed with Ravus, him letting you hold him down as you took him in a faux show of power. You’d questioned him in breathy gasps, your hand braced at his throat and nails digging into his shoulder as you’d writhed above him.

_I thought you said jealousy was the product of a weak mind._

Unlike the various lessons he’d taught you through the years, this one had come in heavy breaths and low grunts.

_Like most emotions, it’s malleable and can be utilized to influence._

You’d slowed, your body slick with sweat against his. His eyes, a perfect icy blue and lilac had stared up at you without relent. His voice had been a deep whisper under the hand you had at his throat.

_What better way to make it known you’re mine?_

He’d made you jealous on purpose, likely because you’d done so first when meeting the king’s shield. A small laugh tumbling out of you, you’d only ridden him harder, the lovemaking becoming a punishment for indirectly coercing a public declaration out of you. And he liked to pretend he didn’t know how to be a politician.

You looked at him now, catching the curiosity in his eyes over the question Luna had posed. There wasn’t an answer for it because you couldn’t know what would’ve happened if the fight had went unmoderated. Ravus seemed to read that in your expression, the barest hint of a smile coming to him. He bent, leaning your way, unashamed in the brush of his lips against yours.

Noctis groaned, and you smiled into the kiss, putting your coffee mug down to lift your hand to Ravus’ cheek. A throat cleared near the table, drawing Ravus away from you so he could look at who was interrupting the breakfast and, most pressing, your gross violation of basic royal decency.

Ignis stood just beyond one of the doorways, a file in hand and a frown on his face. You didn’t want to think about what could possibly be so important that he’d show up this early in the day to address Noct. After a short look at the file in his hand, you returned to eating without greeting him. You blinked in surprise when he turned to you at the end of his conversation with Noctis.

“His Majesty wishes to extend a congratulations on your victory,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “With minor regret that you couldn’t return to the ball last evening.”

Mouth full of food, you stared at him. When had he become the king’s messenger? You nodded slowly, showing that you’d heard and understood. Washing the bite down with coffee, you cleared your throat. “Uh, thanks.”

How eloquent. Totally worth the blank look on Ignis’ face that followed. He nodded curtly, dipping his head in a small bow to Ravus before excusing himself. You watched him go with a small frown that eased when Noctis brought up the comic book again. With a light scoff, you reignited the argument over the plot, immensely happy for where you found yourself despite what you’d given up to get there.

* * *

The autumn air was warm, an occasional mountain breeze keeping you close to Ravus’ side as you wandered through the festival grounds together. You’d just watched a performance with everyone else in one of the new tented stages that had been constructed this year. Now, as you went from table to table, you were making sure to donate to everyone equally and put on a good face.

The kingdom was officially coming around to you as a whole, the past year of effort not going unnoticed by the more conservative members of the upper crust. They liked your harsh opinions on Niflheim. You still preferred to mingle with the simpler folk, though. They were usually kinder all around. You grinned at the man at the fertility table, digging out the last of your pocket money.

Ravus put a hand over yours, curling your fingers over the handful of gil you were about to place on the table. “That would be unwise.”

You frowned up at him. “Because…?”

He was deadpan, his hand leaving yours but his gaze remaining sharp. “Because we aren’t ready for children.”

That startled a small laugh out of you. Opening your hand, you looked down at the gil, shining against the afternoon sun. Your palm was a little sweaty from all of the running about and the odd warmth that lingered in the mountains this late in the season.

Gazing back up at Ravus, you grinned. “I didn’t know you were so superstitious.”

He rose a brow, saying nothing as you passed the gil from one hand to the other. On his wrist was a bracelet you’d made for him at a booth with Iris when you’d first arrived to the festival grounds. On a corner of his mouth was a smudge of the autumn jam you’d tried two tables back, a smudge that you’d accidentally kissed onto him.

Should you let him know it was there?

His brows drew together impatiently, and you decided that _no_ you weren’t going to tell him. He was far too unwittingly cute this way.

“It’s okay, papa-gâteau,” you said. “I’m safe. You know that.”

He didn’t appear convinced even though you’d told him _more than once_ that you were on the pill. You were fine. Tenebraen healthcare was free and royally funded. His family was practically paying for him to fuck you without dire consequence, and you were totally okay with that.

Ravus pursed his lips, giving you a disapproving look over the gil that remained in your hand. “So you say.”

You lifted a hand, wiping a thumb over the jam at the corner of his mouth. Putting the tip of your thumb between your lips and licking the jam off slowly, made him blush, and you couldn’t help the smile that came to you at his inadvertent flustering. For as complex a man as he was, his reactions became increasingly predictable.

Looking at the man who maintained the fertility table, you put the gil down and winked at him. “ _I do what I want._ ”

The man smiled, his wide eyes going from the gil, to you, and then to Ravus as the smile grew. He bowed, saying nothing but looking pleased that you’d donated despite Ravus’ protest.

Ravus sighed, walking on to the next table. “If that’s your wish, so be it.”

You laughed again, following him. “Would it be so bad?” Your hand caught a small grip on the hem of his robe sleeve. He slowed a little for you, staring down at you.

“Having a child?”

Chewing on your lip, you shook your head. You didn’t really want kids, but you’d slowly warmed up to the idea, given who you were choosing to be with. You weren’t trying to say having a baby wouldn’t be so bad. It _would_ be bad. Terrible, in fact. But tossing some gil on a table didn’t mean you’d get pregnant overnight. There was no correlation. Finding this little superstition in him over it was nothing more than a funny surprise.

“Would it be so bad to just have fun at the festival without worrying about things like that?” You tugged on his sleeve, and he stopped walking completely. Knowing how to speak his language, you suddenly realized exactly how you wanted to get him to loosen up. “If I wanted a baby, you’d give me one.”

His eyes sharpened a little, one of his hands pulling yours away from his sleeve. He held it loosely, ensconcing it in his own. “Why would you say that?”

Oh, no. You blinked, your smile waning. He knew you were teasing him. You didn’t mind that that was a fantasy of his. He was a decade your senior; it made sense to you that his thoughts would be on something that you saw as a really distant prospect.

Biting your lip again, you stepped closer to him. Your free hand played with a clasp on his robe. “Because you give me everything I want.”

Ravus caught the other hand, keeping you still. “An easy task to accomplish when your demands are usually nonsense.”

Loud music began to play from somewhere across the grounds, bursting out of horns and stringed instruments. The grand show and dance was beginning, people migrating to that part of the festival. Ravus pulled you closer by your hands, and you pressed flush against him as people passed by. Burying your face into his robes to avoid the looks others gave —a mix of amused and disapproving— you hugged him.

He smelled like tea and mint, a mark of what he’d tried at tables earlier in your walk. Once clear of the crowds, you pulled back and looked around. The people attending their tables were still around, as well as a few lingering festival goers. Otherwise, it was fairly empty, not even a sign of Prompto or one of the others waiting for you.

Taking one of Ravus’ hands, you pulled him toward the nearest tented stage. You found it empty after a cursory glance, walking down the main aisle between empty rows of chairs to the small stage at the back. Looking over your shoulder, you smiled at the look of realization on his face. You almost stumbled, bumping a few of the chairs from not paying attention.

Making yourself look forward, you noticed that Ignis’ suit jacket was still draped over the chair he’d occupied. You made a mental note to tell one of the others about it so it wouldn’t be left behind. It was so unlike Ignis to forget things like that. Dispelling those thoughts, you brought your attention to the matter at hand.

“You know what I want right now?” you asked as you took the steps up to the stage, pulling him along with you across the hardwood platform and through heavy curtains to where wires and props littered the floor. This was probably as private a location you were going to get on such short notice.

When you turned to him, Ravus was ready, his hands lifting to frame your face and head dipping so he could catch your mouth with his own. He knew exactly what you wanted. Tearing at the ties of your festival robes, you leaned up and into his kiss. It was fumbling, knocking against the props and nearly tripping over the cords that were haphazardly taped to the floor.

You laughed softly when his elbow knocked down a festival standee, the light wood clattering against the floor loudly. He broke the kiss, looking down at it for a moment in annoyance. You doubted it would bring any attention to you with how loud the music continued to play from across the grounds.

Falling back on the flats of your feet, you clung to the front of his robes to keep you steady. Your eyes roamed the backstage area, finding nothing you could prop yourself against to make this more comfortable. Backing yourself against the closest thing, one of the large beams that held the stage together, you worked at getting the clasps of his robes open.

He had an easier time, opening yours with a solid rip that you’d worry about later. The cool mountain air made your skin prickle with goosebumps, and Ravus paused, fingers running gently over your bare shoulders. He slid the fabric down, revealing more of you as his hands traveled over your skin, and you shivered, leaning into his touch. Your hands slid into his open robes, moving down his body to the tie at his trousers.

Your eagerness only seemed to grow every time you slept together, and it showed in how hard you pulled at his waistband. Drawing him out, you slid a hand over the shaft and looked up to meet his eyes. It was as easy as shuffling out of your underwear, though you were only able to get one leg out before he held it up by the thigh and braced you against the beam.

There was probably something sacrilegious about it, having him enter you while you were both still robed in your Oracle attire, instrumental songs about the gods playing in the distance as your own personal song of sighs and moans bounced off the walls of the tent and stage. Or maybe the gods approved. All that mattered was that you were there, and you were alone together.

The leg that held you up weakened with every thrust he pushed inside you, and you wobbled against the beam, head tilted back in rapture. A jarring noise from beyond the stage made him pause, and you whined, not caring about what could be happening. A chair had probably fallen over in the audience. You _had_ rushed through them pretty quickly.

“Ravus,” you plead over the music. “Don’t stop.”

He spared a momentary glance over his shoulder through the opening in the heavy curtains. Whatever had caused the sound must’ve been nothing because he hefted your thigh a little higher and kept going, driving into you with renewed force.

You sang his praises loud enough to match the cacophony outside.

—

In the manor, as everyone prepared for the usual private hang amongst friends in one of the parlor rooms, Prompto showed you the photos he’d taken while on the grounds. You giggled over one of Noctis posing with Gladio next to a tiny fish he must’ve caught at one of the booths.

You looked up, catching Ignis’ attention as he sat down in a chair on the other side of the coffee table. Your amusement dissipated, eyes averting automatically. He’d looked perturbed by something. It was Ignis, though. His annoyances could’ve stemmed from anything. That’s just what he was like, and it was, more than ever before, not your problem.

“What did you think of that performance?” Prompto asked, going through more photos on the camera’s display. “Better than the last time we visited, if you ask me.”

You absentmindedly touched the ripped collar of your robes, the white fabric and golden accents all frayed just above your breast. No one had said anything about it so far, no comments on your rumpled appearance. Almost like it was expected. _There goes the future duchess. What a fucking mess._

You were meant to be crowned the next day, just before the masquerade ball. You’d practiced a new piano piece with Ravus just for the occasion, something to display what you were bringing to the table for the kingdom. It was the opening theme song for the Li’l Malbuddy cartoon, a catchy little thing that most people would recognize immediately.

Except for Ravus, apparently, who’d clearly never watched tv growing up, Galahdian or otherwise. He’d approved of the melody, though, and had learned it alongside you without complaint.

Prompto stared at you, his leg bouncing and foot tapping on the floor. You realized you hadn’t answered him and dropped your hands to your lap, leaning into him with a small laugh. “I might’ve missed the show.”

He chuckled, his fingers playing over the camera in his hands. “You, too? Iggy left early and missed most of it.” Looking at the other man sitting across from you, Prompto asked, “Feeling better now?”

Ignis lifted his glass to his mouth, tipping his head back quickly and downing a large drink of whatever he’d gotten from the bar. He closed his eyes, and you watched him swallow down the burn of it, his lips pulling into a light grimace before he opened his eyes again.

“Quite.”

His curt answer felt weird, like cold water running down your spine. You chanced a direct look at him and found him staring into his glass. You fought the instinct to ask if he was alright. Some friendships weren’t salvageable, and you’d accepted the veracity of his point about keeping your lives entirely separate.

Looking around the parlor to turn your attention to anything else, you saw Ravus talking with Gladio at the bar. The shield was nodding at something Ravus was saying, and you couldn’t help the swell of excitement at how much they seemed to increasingly get along each time you saw them interact. Eventually, you hoped Noct would come around, too.

Next to you Prompto, pointed at another photo he’d taken earlier in the day. He didn’t comment on your torn robes or the fact that you and Ignis had barely spoken a word to each other for over a year now. He didn’t point out the obvious or beleaguer issues. He laughed with you, nudged you in the side when Ravus joined you on the sette, and gave you the kind of support you thought only he could give. Some things never changed.

—

Your coronation ceremony was to be broadcast live to the world, being the first time a Lucian would become foreign royalty. Usually, if any cross-national ties were bound, it involved Lucis gaining people, not giving them up. You were more nervous than you thought you’d be, which was to the point of feeling sick just looking at your reflection in the rooms you had to wait in prior to the ceremony beginning.

You’d been given a run down of what to expect. The rites would be read by the Oracle, all of the important elders who helped guide her would provide their own opinions on you, and the Oracle would place a crown on your head. A fucking crown that you’d have to wear anytime you were on royal grounds or in anyplace on official business. For the rest of forever.

Touching your hair with a frown, you genuinely hoped the crown wouldn’t be heavy or gaudy. The Oracle had said it would be made for you, perfectly suited to your taste and size. You didn’t think crowns or tiaras were particularly in your taste in the first place, but you were hoping for the best. At the very least, if it did end up being heavy, you could weaponize it in case any assassins came after you.

You expected this ceremony to make your life much more interesting. Assassins, important meetings with dignitaries, and conferring with the people over public issues. The reality was probably just a ton of paperwork, but you were excited nonetheless.

Leaving the rooms with Honorguard at your sides, you recounted everything you were expected to do. Lots of bowing, smiling, and giving in to the pomp and circumstance. Mom, unable to make the trip, was going to be watching from home, like most people across the world. You tried not to think about this being the most watched thing you’d ever been apart of. After all of your years of hard work on films and tv sets, it _would_ be a boring, hours-long ceremony that everyone would care to watch. Just your luck.

Entering the throne room, you were surprised to find yourself approached by Ravus first and foremost. He escorted you from the entrance to the dais were the throne sat, and his presence made your anxiety abate by incredible amounts. When you had to let go of his arm, you swallowed hard, your eyes following him as he took to one of the Oracle’s sides. He gave you an encouraging look, which, coming from Ravus, meant he gave you a smile that just barely reached his heterocromatic eyes.

The ceremony took so long, you thought you were at risk of falling asleep while standing. As honored as you were, the exaggerated display of it was over the top, even for someone as self absorbed as you. The reveal of the crown —tiara, whatever— was the point at which your attention was regained. It was, just as promised, perfectly suited for you. Simple and understated, you couldn’t help the bit of pride that expelled from you through a grin as the Oracle placed it on your head.

When you rose from your kneel, the gown that you’d been made to wear pooling around you like far too much fancy silk bedding, you couldn’t help raising a hand to your head to touch the tiara. Not as heavy as you’d worried. Not heavy at all, actually. It was like a headband that was embedded with diamonds and held way too much importance.

When you looked at Ravus, his eyes were wide and searching. They coursed over you like he’d never seen you before in his life. It wasn’t _that_ huge of a stretch was it, that you’d become royalty? You did this for him. Only for him. He’d better appreciate it.

Biting hard on your lip, you played out the rest of the ceremony with as much grace as you could muster. People cheered when its completion was announced. You friends, Tenebraen citizens, and total strangers congratulated you in waves of cheers and fanfare. You bowed, already feeling the weight of _duchess_ when the Oracle called for you to begin the ball.

Your dress was black, in an Insomnian style to suit your background, but you didn’t have a mask. Feeling unprepared but knowing that any sign of hesitance would only be met with derision, you led the masses to the grand ballroom and set off the ball with a dance.

“You’re magnificent,” Ravus whispered as you traversed the dance floor in easy sweeps that he led.

You forced a smile, conflicting feelings burning in your chest. “Because I have a crown now?”

He didn’t appear bothered by your pointed question, drawing you closer than the dance called for. His hatred for public displays had finally been worn away, it seemed, a gently possessive part of him coming out that had been unknown to you before.

“Because you wear it well,” he said, his chin resting at your head. “As I knew you would.”

Other people began to fill the dance floor, finally removing the pressure you’d felt ever since the ceremony had begun. The tiara was light, but the meaning behind it was anything but. You were a commoner turned royalty, something that only happened in folk tales. For as much as you’d been through over the years preparing for this, it was still a big role to adjust to. You couldn’t help the wandering thought that the ease you’d had so far would pass like a fad, that people would hate you all over again for no reason other than your past indiscretions.

It was with that thought, you realized a majority of the pressure was self inflicted. No one else expected miracles out of you. That was literally Ravus’ job. As Ravus so often said, things were going to be alright because you were sensible and kind. You couldn’t please everyone, and making yourself happy was the most important of all. These were things you would probably always need reminders for, and you were glad he would always be there to do it.

When it came time to switch partners, you were happy to let someone else take Ravus away on a tour of the dance floor. The closest partner, to your notice, was Ignis. He was maskless, his glasses the excuse he made for not having to wear one. He turned around the moment you opened your mouth, walking toward another person on the dance floor and beginning a dance with them. You didn’t let it bother you, asking another to dance, a woman in white who blushed when you complimented her dress.

Settling into the role of duchess, you spend the dance asking her questions about herself and her family. If being a commoner by birth gave you any upper hand, it was your ability to relate to almost anyone in a way that Ravus couldn’t. The woman told you about her struggles with her studies. You laughed a little when she admitted that she’d hidden her marks from her family in fear of being punished.

As you carried the conversation, you met eyes with Ravus from a distance. Dancing with Luna, he towered over her and looked at you anytime the dance had him facing your way. His staring became more and more obvious as the song went on, Luna shooting smiles your way.

You wished the woman luck when the dance ended and made your way through the ballroom to Ravus. People watched you as you went, moving out of your way, something they certainly didn’t do before. Ignoring the looks from the guests, you stopped right in front of Ravus and placed a hand on his chest. His robes, pure white and elaborate, contrasted intensely with your black gown.

He took your hand, lifting it and bringing you close to begin a dance. His eyes roamed over you, his body growing flush against yours with every sweeping movement. You realized, feeling his hand slide down to the small of your back as he dipped you, that he was unintentionally smoldering. The look didn’t let up as he righted you both, his hand pressing you firmly into him.

You drew him down by the shoulder, lifting on your toes in the dance as your mouth ghosted over his. You spoke over the music but it may as well have been a whisper in the clamor of the party.

“I want you to take this dress off me. Right now.”

His nose brushed yours, his eyes coming to a sharper point. “We can’t abandon the ball. It’s only begun.”

You chewed your lip, growing more excited as he moved with you, his arm holding you against him and his eyes stealing all of your attention.

“We could go to a parlor,” you said hopefully.

The dance slowed to a stop, Ravus simply holding you as people continued to sway around you. His hand that had held yours let go, coming to your jaw to tilt your head just so. His lips came to yours in a crash, harder than you expected. You clutched at his robes, melting into him with every brush of his lips against yours. Your back bent as he arched over you, the pressure of him on you giving way to wet heat as his tongue invaded and readily conquered the expanse of your mouth. The music grew muted, and for a stretch of time, nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. Until you needed to breathe.

“Papa-gâteau,” you laughed, pulling back breathlessly. “You’re being indecent.”

Ravus held you tighter, his eyes not leaving your face. His breath had picked up, but you knew even with the public displays, the pet name, and the formal wear, he wasn’t going to ditch his obligation to be present for this event. An obligation you now shared.

Trailing a finger along the line of his jaw, you kept your voice low and breathy. If all you were allowed, at this point in time, was a bit of public flirting, you were going to take it. “I’m going to spend the entire ball imagining you slipping me out of this elaborate dress. Slowly. Piece by piece.”

Again, he kissed you, this time softer, more subdued. When he spoke, it was in strained, hot breaths against your mouth. “After our piano performance, meet me in my bedchambers.”

You blinked at his order, the suggestion completely unexpected. “Wait, what?”

With a quiet snarl, he closed his eyes. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Almost laughing at his sudden decision, all flirtiness drained from you, swallowed by shock. “Y-you’d really ditch with me?”

He finally loosened his hold, taking a step back and letting you go as he opened his eyes. His robes were rumpled, and you were left feeling distinctly colder without his touch. He brushed a curl of your hair behind an ear, a gentle movement that made you still even further.

“I wouldn’t call it ditching, as you say,” he said, straightening out his robes. People continued to dance around you, though looks were definitely being sent your way. Appearing proper after smoothing down his robes, Ravus turned his gaze to you with his usual seriousness. “I wish to celebrate you privately.”

Nodding, probably far too enthusiastically, you were hesitant to allow yourself to be whisked away by Gladio next as the song ended and morphed into another.

“You’re putting on a good show, juicy,” he said, his amber eyes looking amused behind his black mask.

“That’s _your highness, the duchess of juiciness_ to you,” you fired back, not wanting to hear him complain about how touchy feely you were with Ravus. You got enough of that from Noctis.

“The duchess of juiciness?”

“Yeah, see my crown? It represents my raw juicy power.”

He chuckled, and you felt it, his chest bumping into you as you danced. “The juicy duchess.”

“Now that’s a porn.”

“Could be,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “Looked like you and Ravus were about to reenact some kinda porn earlier.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s hilarious coming from you, of all people.”

“Me?” Gladio grinned, and you felt that little bit of annoyance at him dissipate. “I’m all kinds of innocent, juicy. I just thought…”

Raising a brow in a look that begged him to just spit it out, you sighed when he closed his mouth and shook his head.

“Just say it, whatever it is,” you said. “Is it about Ignis? Or how I’m not thinking things through?”

He spun you in a tighter circle, the music quickening in pace. “We’re way past that. There’s no saving you now.”

“I don’t need to be saved.” This was probably the most ridiculous thing he’d ever said to you, which was a feat, considering how stupid your conversations often became. “Don’t act like I don’t have any agency. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

You purposely stepped on his foot. “Not really, but Ravus has my back. It’s like, the most stable I’ve ever been. Give me some fucking credit.”

Gladio chuckled again, slowing along with the music as the song neared its end. “I get it, juicy. I just wanted to say congrats.”

You narrowed your eyes, not sure if you believed him. He surely had some kind of shit up his sleeve, some offhand comment about Ignis that would leave you feeling oddly guilty. But he only smiled, squeezing your hand before letting it go and removing himself from the stance. When Prompto took the lead next, you were put at ease.

It was comforting to think that you wouldn’t be getting grief over that from him anymore. You’d really thought _you and Iggy are inevitable_ would be the hill on which Gladio decided to live and die. No doubt Ignis had told him about keeping out of one another’s lives. As if it even needed to be stated. It was plain to see in the way he directed himself out of conversations and situations that involved you with ease, and the others had, so far, respected it.

“You think I could try that crown on?” Prompto asked, drawing you from your thoughts.

A laugh spilled out of you, but a small part of you felt like, if he dared to take it off of you, you’d swat him away in a flash. You’d earned this, and it wasn’t a toy. You stopped yourself from saying that aloud, not liking the authoritative way it would’ve come out.

Astrals, you were already changing. Laughing at yourself, you leaned into Prompto’s hold and tried not to think overlong about the excitement that awaited you later in the evening.

—

Except everything seemed to get in your way. Everyone in the kingdom wanted to congratulate you, to ask questions, to get photographs. It was only with Luna’s help that you were able to escape, but she’d only been able to escort you as far as the end of the corridor before she was stopped herself by a few Tenebraen nobles who wanted to catch up, asking about her dogs.

You dodged and wove through the mild crowds in the halls of the manor, trying not to be _too_ obvious in your attempt to get away. It would be obvious to anyone who knew what each wing and separate area of the castle meant that you were trying to get to Ravus’ bedchambers. As you considered going to your small private room and inviting him to meet you there instead, you were startled when a hand grabbed your upper arm and pulled you through the cracked doorway of a parlor.

Yelping, you lifted a hand to attack whoever had grabbed you, freezing when you realized it was only Ravus. Hand lowered and frown coming to your face, you said, “You can’t just grab me, Ravus. You scared the shit—”

He covered your mouth with a hand, letting the parlor door shut behind you with a gentle _thud._ The voices of the pair of nobles who’d been trailing after you passed the closed doorway. When the noise quieted, Ravus let go of you and stepped back.

Crossing your arms at his sudden capture of you, you felt any number of things come to mind to reprimand him. He wasn’t normally taken to this kind of shifty behavior, and he’d ignored your suggestion of meeting in a parlor earlier. Yet here you were.

Uncrossing your arms, you arched your brows and lifted your hands to grasp the front of his robes. Whatever you’d planned to say disappeared in a forgotten breath as he rose a hand, brushing his thumb over your lips.

“I must admit,” he said, the timbre of his voice lower than anticipated. “I’m not always a patient man.”

A beat passed, quiet save for the sound of the party outside. You jerked yourself toward him, fingers curling in the fabric of his robes. It took only moments, his hands practiced and perfectly made to map the planes of your body, for him to have you laying back on one of the plush sofas. With the skirts of your gown pushed up and aside, his fingers slipped your underwear down your thighs as his mouth left hot, wet marks along your neck.

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin. He left your panties just above your knees, his fingers ardent as they slid up a thigh and teased at your apex without hesitation. You were growing wet and overheated, an uncomfortable fact in all the finery you wore. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your body burning at his attention.

The parlor doors bursting open made you tense beneath him. Ravus’ hand left you, but he didn’t leave his position between your legs, his head lifting to scowl at the intruder.

“I do apologize.”

The familiar voice made you tense further, and you pushed at Ravus, your hands shoving at his chest until he backed away. You looked over as Ignis let the parlor door shut behind him, your hands jerking your panties up before he could get a better look.

“What are you doing, Scientia?” Ravus stood, his voice acidic to a degree that you shared. “Come for another show?”

You didn’t know what that meant, but smoothed down your gown and stood up next with a hard look at the man. “What do you want?”

Ignis walked toward you both, stumbling on his way, his eyes unfocused. You knew exactly what was wrong as soon as you saw this, having seen and experienced it far too many times yourself.

“I’ve come to congratulate you, of course,” he said as if it were the most logical thing, his walk toward you falling short as his eyes closed, his body falling forward with his last step.

You lifted your arms to stop him from knocking you over, but Ravus caught him before he could land on you, an arm gripping the other man’s waist in an uncomfortable hold. You moved so he could set Ignis down on the sofa. He was rougher about it than necessary, probably, and when Ignis lay on his back, you shook your head, rolling him over onto his side.

“It’s better that way,” you mumbled, standing back with Ravus to look at Ignis’ unconscious form. His mouth was slightly parted, his styled hair flattened in parts and glasses askew. You bent, taking them off his face and folding them closed before setting them on the coffee table. Then you looked at Ravus, a little miffed at this sudden disruption. “We’ll just… leave him here?”

Ravus kept glaring at the other man. “We should.” You touched his arm, hoping to ease the anger. It seemed to work, Ravus’ expression easing into a comparatively softer annoyance, his eyes meeting yours. “We should, but I won’t.”

You didn’t understand, shaking your head a little. “No?”

He sighed, his hand coming to rest over yours on his arm. “This is abnormal. He may have a problem, ma crevette.”

Eyes shifting from Ravus to Ignis, you chewed on your lip and mulled on that thought. Of course Ravus would feel compelled to help when he felt someone needed it. That’s what had drawn him to you in the first place.

“Want me to get a doctor?” you asked, staring at the way Ignis’ mouth moved gently with silent words in his sleep.

Ravus squeezed your hand before letting it go. “Bring me Amicitia. He’ll have insight, I’m sure.”

You nodded, dropping your hand from his arm. “He can carry Ignis to his room, too.”

“That’s my hope,” Ravus sighed again, bending to push Ignis’ hair out of his face.

Lingering, you couldn’t help but watch the way all tension and irritation left Ravus. He looked serene as he looked the other man over, a hand resting on Ignis’ forehead. It was the transition that always happened when he focused on healing. For him to have the compassion for this made your heart ache. Your face flushed red when his attention returned to you, a brow arched in question.

“Are you alright?”

Feeling caught, you nodded again. “I, um.” You waffled, a little disbelieving that you were doing this instead of making your way to his bedchambers right now. “I love you, too.”

Ravus stared at you, then he seemed to realize that you were referencing what had been happening before the interruption, his jaw tightening. “We’ll retire once we’ve brought this to Amicitia’s attention.”

You backed toward the door, shooting him a finger gun. “I’m holding you to that. Today has been way too long.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He returned his attention to Ignis as you left the parlor. As urgent as the situation was, you grinned to yourself at the renewed wave of feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. Hurrying down the corridor on your way back to the ballroom, you felt, now more than ever, that you’d made the right choice.

* * *

The knight greeted you at the station just outside the manor with a small laugh. She’d answered her phone when Ravus’ kept going to the voicemail you’d finally convinced him to set up. Ravus was away for the day, apparently, meeting with someone important. The knight had told you to visit another day, but you were willing to wait. You had something far too important to tell him.

You rushed past the knight as she tried to convince you it was a waste of time. If Ravus was only away for the day, the worst case scenario was falling asleep in his bed as you waited for him. The knight lifted her arms to block you as you crossed the main bridge, and you deftly walked underneath, laughing at how her taller form and lack of aggression were doing her no favors here.

Before you could make it into the manor itself, you were stopped by the sight of the Oracle walking the grounds. You hadn’t counted on seeing her, embarrassed at the sweats you wore and the lazy way you’d put on your tiara in the rush out of your apartment. She waved you over, saying nothing to you as she dismissed the flustered knight and motioned for you to follow her.

Once on a separate bridge, away from prying ears, Sylva took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Eos makes herself known here,” she said, eyes roaming the landscape. “More so than anywhere else.”

The winter air was cold and sparkly with mist, reflecting the sunlight with tiny pinpricks of moisture. The nearest waterfall was so close, you felt like you could reach just beyond the cliff side to touch it, but knew better than to try. Magic remained as thick in the air as ever, covering you in a sense of comfort and familiarity after so many years of being here.

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. Either her presence or the calm that this atmosphere placed on you had your anxiety falling away for a moment. The mountains were serene.

“I know why you are here today.” And, just like that, your anxieties were back. You must have been making a face because she lifted a hand to her mouth to quiet a soft laugh. “That was unnecessarily cryptic of me. I apologize.”

You shook your head, knowing your tiara was lopsided and not caring. “No, it’s okay, uh— Your Majesty.”

She lowered her hand, tilting her head. “I don’t expect you to ever call me mother, but when it is here, at home, please call me Sylva.”

You most certainly would _not_ be doing that, you thought even as you nodded at her. What next, King Regis asking you to call him “Reggie” and you gathering the courage to tell Clarus Amicitia that he could easily win the Hottest Dad in Eos award? Except, that wouldn’t be the case anymore.

Ravus was going to be the hottest dad in Eos at some point in the foreseeable future. That’s why you’d come to the manor on a day when you’d usually be in the city. Did Sylva really know? Oracles seemed to know _everything_.

“This will be an exciting change,” she said in the face of your silence. “It has been a very long time since a child has lived in the manor.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked away to hide your shock. Anxiety was at a definite all time high now. Somehow, Sylva totally knew. With a nervous breath, you made yourself look at her again as you asked, “How? I mean I _just_ found out.”

“Ravus has spent more time with you as of late. You’re his betrothed.” Finally, she looked away, her smile growing. “I wouldn’t say it was to be expected, but he has been more comfortable and assured, taking to his duties with an ease I had never seen in him.”

You’d expected her to say you were “simply glowing” or something. You sure as hell didn’t feel that way, but it was the usual response given to people in your terrible, awful, unfortunate condition. You’d actually sat on the news for almost a week, wallowing in denial, afraid to tell anyone because that would somehow make it true.

Ravus had visited once in that time, and you’d analyzed him quietly all that day. At the way he drank tea with a practiced grace— would he be just as delicate with the baby?

The way he lifted you playfully in his arms on the way to your bedroom in response to some terrible thing you’d said— would he have the same loving patience for them?

The soft murmurs of love he’d left on your bare skin while satisfying you— would that love end when you had a third person in your party of two?

The minor complaint he had before leaving that you lived too far away for his liking— would he expect you to give up your independence?

“My sweet girl,” Sylva said, breaking you out of your thoughts. She faced you, taking your hands in hers. “You look absolutely terrified.”

“Because I _am_ ,” you blurted, breaths becoming heavy. A tightness at your chest began to clench sharply. The wide open space of the mountainside began to slowly turn in your vision, accompanied by the feeling of the world closing in on you. Great, you were nearing a panic attack.

Sylva held your hands firmly, speaking quietly. “I understand the worries you may have. This is quite the change.” She let go of one of your hands, lifting hers to touch your chin and make you meet her eyes. “Look at me. You will be wonderful. Now, take a deep breath.”

You closed your eyes and listened, the tight feeling in your chest easing away after several long breaths. You felt a warmth from her hands that smoothed across your being in a comforting wave. Whatever she was doing, it helped immensely. You opened your eyes once your mind stopped circling the same dreadful thoughts about your future. Sylva smiled when you were finally calm. She lifted her hand from your face and adjusted the tiara on your head.

The rush of the nearest waterfall created a pleasant backdrop to the short silence that followed. Apparently pleased with your tiara finally adjusted, Sylva backed away from you and smoothed down a part of her elaborate gown. You were beginning to feel embarrassed by your sudden panic. Before you could apologize, she spoke again. This was becoming the longest personal conversation you’d ever had with her, and now you suspected they would only grow longer. You were very much a part of the family now. The engagement was one thing, but this— there was no going back from this.

“Thank you.” She gazed at a distant waterfall. The sunlight tore through it in such a way that a rainbow had sprang up in the misty air. It seemed to shift and shimmer with the water, an effect of the magic, you could only guess. You stared at it as you listened to her. “I had feared, for the longest time, that Ravus wouldn’t know the joy of marrying for love. Luna was fortunate, but Ravus had never shown a care for such things.”

She looked at you again, her smile warm. “I had been intrigued with his great interest in helping you when you’d first arrived. I would often find him fuming over your difficulties. He’d look rather proud on the better days, though I suspect he hid that from you.” Her smile changed, the curl of her mouth suddenly knowing. “Once you returned to Insomnia, and he spent his days playing the piano and moping about, I realized my son had fallen in love.”

There was an answer to a question Ravus always refused to talk about. He’d loved you for a very long time. Even when he’d been trying to help you win Ignis back. Even when you’d been at your absolute lowest. Suddenly, you felt a strong desire to be near him. If he’d felt that way for so long, it wasn’t unreasonable to hope that this sudden surprise wouldn’t upset him. He’d been clear in saying it was too soon for children. While you wholeheartedly agreed, there wasn’t much you could do about that _now._

“If he’s returning today, can I stay here until he gets back?” You could visit the stables and relax in the gardens, you thought. The private library probably needed to be cleaned since no one else had access aside from you and Ravus. There were a lot of things to do in the meantime.

“He’s resting at the moment,” Sylva said. “He likely told the knight to ward you off because he’s taken ill. He has the silly idea that’s inherent in all men about not wanting to appear weak in front of his partner.”

You weren’t sure how accurate that statement was but could understand where she’d come to that conclusion about Ravus’ intentional misdirection. If he wanted to be left alone while sick, you’d give him the space even if it made you worry. Maybe a short visit wouldn’t hurt, though. Just a few minutes. Enough to quickly give him the news, and you wouldn’t have to stick around for his reaction.

“His afternoon tea is being prepared now. If you’d like, I’ll inform the staff that you wish to bring it to his bedchambers.” Sylva’s smile grew more, and she looked out at the landscape again. “I trust you know where that is.”

With a flushed face, you nodded. If this was the kind of subtle jokes the _Oracle_ was making about your newfound condition and what had led to it, you couldn’t wait to see what your own mother had to say. And Prompto. Everyone was going to have a great time at your expense.

—

Ravus’ private rooms were colder than what you felt were necessary. You quietly thanked the guard who opened the door for you as you carried the tray inside. Ravus looked up from where he sat on the bed. His nose was red, an endearing look on him as confusion overtook his features.

“Ma crevette,” he said, protesting softly in a scratchy voice. “Why are you here?”

You rounded his bed, going to the less cluttered nightstand to place the tea down. Pouring tea into a cup, you carefully climbed onto the bed and held it out to him. “I told you hanging outside in the cold was gonna make you sick.”

He took the cup with a soft thanks, taking a slow drink before frowning at you. “I knew the knight would tell you.”

You poured your own cup, leaning back on his headboard with it. Your arm brushed his, but you didn’t try to close the distance, not wanting to catch whatever it was he had. By the scratchy voice and the disgusting array of tissues on his bed, it couldn’t have been more than a common cold. Precious how that could fell a grown man so thoroughly.

“Give the kid more credit,” you said, elbowing him gently. “Your mom was the one who told me.”

Ravus looked down at you, then into his cup. “You spoke to my mother?”

You rested your head back on the headboard, looking up at the gold leaf stars on his ceiling. “I need to tell you something, and you can’t get upset.”

He finished his cup of tea; you could tell in the way he let the cup land on its saucer, just slightly louder than every other time he set it down. You could feel his eyes on you but made no move to meet his gaze just yet.

“I can’t promise that.”

You didn’t respond, drinking the rest of your tea before looking at him again. His mouth was pulled into a hard frown, his breathing uneven and his face flush from the illness. You put your cup down first, then took his, pouring more without asking if he wanted it. You knew he did.

Handing the cup back to him, you crossed your legs, turning to face him a little more. Could you even say it out loud? The words had yet to leave your mouth a single time since you’d found out. He didn’t drink the new cup you’d poured, holding it on his lap as he waited for you to speak. His frown sharpened by the second, and when it seemed like his patience had run out, you broke.

“Ravus, I’m—” You snapped your mouth shut, a hand running down your face. Dropping your hand, you forced it out. “I’m pregnant.”

He stilled, his breath silencing for a beat. Then he lifted the teacup, closing his eyes as he drank long, smooth sips from it until it was empty. Worry began to bud in your gut, sour in your throat. Was he upset? Like you had before, he rested his head back, eyes opening to stare up at the ceiling.

“You said you were safe,” he finally said.

You balked a little. “I was being safe.It’s gotta be your— your magical Oracle nut or something that got past the birth control.”

A frown pulled at his mouth, sharp at the corners. His jaw worked, tensing and easing as he seemed to think.

“Ravus.” It came out soft, hesitant. “Are you angry?”

“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat and tilting his head to look down at you. “I’m irritated at the circumstances. I’ve never wanted to kiss you more, but I don’t want you to catch ill.”

Your worry dissipated, easing with the warm smile that suddenly came, fully formed, to Ravus’ face. Then, a second unpleasant feeling came to you, returning with a vengeance. Anxiety. Ravus was happy about it— that was a wonderful thing. You, on the other hand, had yet to accept the reality of the situation. Aside from the fact that you weren’t even married yet, there were endless reasons to be worried.

You took the cup from him, setting it down next to yours. He grabbed your hand, drawing his blankets over your legs.

“I know this isn’t what you wanna hear,” you said into the quiet air, leaning on him. “But this is my worst nightmare.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb rubbing a circle at your knuckles. “You’re moving into the manor.”

You fought a sigh, expecting as much. “Does that mean we’re getting married early?” The plan had been for you to move in after the wedding, but now all of the plans seemed pointless.

“I see no reason to rush.” He spoke into your hair, and you resisted the urge to look up at his face. You shouldn’t have been cuddling in his bed like this in the first place.

“I’m not gonna fit into my dress,” you complained, trying to focus your attention away from the dread. He sent waves of comfort over you, different from Sylva in how it warmed you like a blanket, easing the deeper worries.

“The royal tailor will handle it,” he said plainly. “You’ll move in by week’s end, and we will marry as planned.”

You bit your lip, stretching out your legs under the blanket. The anxiety fully waning away, you leaned into him more, flush to his side. “Why so soon? If we’re still getting married in spring, I can just wait out my lease until it ends in March, like we planned.”

He shook his head, the motion shifting your own head. “Unacceptable. I’m not missing a moment.” It sounded so final, his authority only weakened by the scratchiness of his voice.

Afternoon became evening before you realized, the discussion growing long. He understood you were afraid, and he soothed every worry as if it were second nature. As if he’d been soothing your worries and helping you face your fears for years now.

* * *

The castle grounds were bustling with staff, guests, and nobility, greater than the usual fuss made because it was an important day. Most of the extra bodies were there for diplomatic reasons, obligated individuals who needed to make appearances and people whose good favor Ravus —and you, you were a team— needed to keep. Asinine as it may have been, the abundance of people you didn’t care about being in attendance wasn’t at the forefront of your mind. 

Dressed in a gown of white —still funny to you how inappropriate it seemed— you looked yourself over in the full length mirrors set just outside the massive closet connected to your personal rooms. You rarely spent time there but had to follow tradition and had spent the last week sleeping alone in preparation for today. You’d made Mom and Luna leave, wanting a moment of peace before going out and being seen by everyone in the kingdom. Before getting married.

The dress was flattering, curving against your rounded stomach and over your form in light, flowing layers. Getting married while heavily pregnant wasn’t uncommon where you were from. You’d prided yourself on the thought that it would _never_ happen to you. Rubbing your stomach, you sighed. Oh, well. At least you’d gotten _this_ far.

A knock sounded at the door as you touched your tiara, used to it now after so many months of bearing its weight. Small flowers rested around it, a personal choice you’d made when seeing them in the gardens during your single escape from the attendants who’d helped you get ready. You rolled your eyes; Mom and Luna had only given you a few minutes alone. “Luna, I said I needed a moment.”

You heard the door open and turned with a frown to find Ravus slowing to a stop just beyond the doorway. You stilled, your breath falling short much the same as his own seemed to. You’d wondered if he would wear a tux or his robes for the ceremony, had asked him about it more than once, and now you realized why he’d said it didn’t matter. Because it was neither. In raiments of royal blue and white, silver accents and sash, you weren’t sure why you’d imagined him wearing anything else.

He stared at you, his eyes slowly widening as they coursed over you. He seemed to startle when the door closed behind him. With a blink, he took a step toward you, then stopped. It was as if he wasn’t sure what to say or do or why he’d shown up here in the first place.

“You can’t be in here,” you said, not really meaning it. You weren’t superstitious in the least, but you knew he could be at times. So this came as a surprise.

He closed the distance in a few steps, his eyes soft in their rake over your face. “I’d like for you to braid my hair.”

A smile coming to your face, you asked, “Didn’t we hire professionals to help us with that today?” You’d woken up early to get ready for this wedding because it was apparently necessary for you to have your entire body exfoliated, primped, and reborn anew. Three hours had been spent on your hair alone, every last strand perfectly placed in a way that you were still amazed by. You really hoped Prompto was feeling trigger happy with his camera today because you weren’t sure you’d ever look this amazing again.

Despite what you’d said, you took one of his hands and sat down with him. This old routine was a comfort, and you realized as you delved fingers into his hair that this had been the peace you’d been seeking all day.

“I don’t know when I fell in love with you.” His voice was low, breaking the silence. Your hands slowed in their attention, a few strands of his hair falling loose from your gentle hold. “You came into my life unexpectedly, and now I can’t imagine it without you.”

Your hands losing all coordination, you removed your fingers from his hair, letting the unfinished braid fall loose. Slowly beginning again, you blushed and wished you could see his face. It was almost better that you couldn’t because you would squirm if you had to face the blunt force of his eyes while he said such sincere things.

“I’m prepared to weather any storm we may face, so long as you are at my side,” he continued, not waiting for you to speak. You didn’t have to say anything. These were his personal vows, something that had been prohibited when you’d asked about them during the wedding planning process. Everything had to be by the book, which lent no room for such personal sentiments given by the prince. “You’re my first and only love. I hope you always know that.”

The plait you’d woven in his silver hair was messy, and you tied it off at the end with slightly shaky fingers. He grew quiet while you straightened it out, getting up to round him and make the unkempt nature of it look purposeful. His eyes followed you, but you didn’t look directly into them until you were satisfied, pulling one of the flowers from your own hair and putting it into his. Not very manly, but he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t. He was waiting for you.

Your face grew a deeper red, burning a little as you took his face into your hands. You didn’t know how to express everything you felt. The feelings he gave you were overwhelming enough on a normal day that it would exacerbate your anxiety. How could you tell someone that they were everything without it sounding like the most thoughtless answer?

“I’m so happy,” you said, your eyes promising tears if you didn’t gather yourself. “That I get to marry my sugar daddy.” A frown pulled gently at the corners of his mouth, and you grinned, dropping one of your hands to take one of his own. You pressed it against your stomach, leaning forward to kiss his nose and whisper, “My papa-gâteau.”

—

“You told me once, in no uncertain terms, that being a royal sounded like a pain in the arse,” Luna said, smiling at you. “Does that hold true?”

You couldn’t have nodded faster. “Yes. It’s the biggest pain. Ever.”

She laughed gently, keeping you company as you rested your feet during the reception. They were a little swollen from so much dancing, an unfortunate side effect of carrying your unborn yet already evil offspring. You’d only recently accepted the fact that you were having not one but two, and couldn’t believe your body would betray you so easily. _One_ had seemed like plenty. More than enough, even.

“I’ve heard only good things about the decisions you’ve made thus far,” Luna said. She kept looking at your stomach. You couldn’t blame her. It was the first time she’d seen you in person since you’d begun showing, and Astrals were you showing. Other than an announcement that the royal family was expecting new members, you hadn’t spoken to many about it, keeping it close to the vest and experiencing everything privately with Ravus.

You’d anticipated at least a small amount of shaming over your evident sexual congress. After years of holding back and truthfully denying that you’d ever been sleeping together —surprise!— it didn’t even matter. The shame had never come, though. Instead, the kingdom waited in rapt anticipation for them to arrive. You tried to ignore the fact that Luna seemed to be in much the same situation, her eyes wandering to your stomach repeatedly without so much as a word addressed to what you knew was truly on her mind.

“I’m not allowed to attend any more meetings,” you said, sipping from your fancy glass of water.

Luna’s eyes flicked upward to meet yours quickly, her smile growing. “Yes, I was told you asked Emperor Aldercapt if he fellated himself.”

You put the glass down with a nod. “It’s what the people wanna know.” That meeting had been a month ago, and your rude behavior had been blamed on your raging pregnancy hormones. The joke was on them because you weren’t going to become any nicer to the leader of Niflheim after giving birth. Your experience in his empire had affected you too deeply.

When Luna’s eyes lowered again, you sighed and took her hands in your own. “You can touch, y’know. Just ask.”

Her smile quickly waned, and she flustered uncharacteristically for a moment, shaking her head. Ignoring her, you put her hands on your stomach, palms flat. Her eyes widened, her fingers splaying and the smile returning to her in full.

“My nieces.” She leaned down slightly, speaking a little higher. “Hello there.”

You fought a laugh, feeling less put upon by letting her do this than you’d thought you would.

“Pardon the interruption, your highness.”

As Luna kept her attention on your stomach, you looked up. Ignis stood in front of the table, below the dais that rose you higher than everyone else in the grand hall. He looked between you, his back straight and expression serious.

You gently pulled Luna’s hands away. “Ignis needs you.”

“Actually,” he spoke up, catching your attention again. “It’s you I was addressing. Would you care to dance?”

While you processed this, Luna seemed to have made the decision for you. She helped you up by your hands, her smile holding its usual warmth. Hesitance kept you standing there, looking from her to him with a frown. You’d rested long enough and had planned to ask her to dance soon anyway. It was just… a little jarring to be approached by Ignis after years of silence between you.

Finally nodding, you rounded the table, taking his offered hand to help you down from the short step of the dais. He led you onto the dance floor smoothly, the crowds parting for you as they tended to do now.

“I hope you don’t mind this thing between us,” you joked lamely when he faced you and took stance with a hand in your own and on your waist.

He didn’t look down at your stomach, which you appreciated. “Not at all.”

You toured the ballroom in sweeps that put everyone around you to shame. Ignis was as smooth as ever, his grace natural and direction certain. He didn’t speak again, his hand squeezing yours lightly as he backed away from you, the song coming to an end. Just as he let go, a familiar tumbling, shifting feeling jabbed at you. Suddenly, you had to use the bathroom.

Grabbing Ignis’ hand, you stopped him from walking away and placed his palm on your stomach. He froze, eyes growing wide just like Luna’s had. You laughed a little, always entertained when people reacted this way. Ravus’ face had been the best so far, pure fascination that had led to far too many hours spent in the private library with him pretending to read Cosmogony while his hand traced shapes into your tummy.

“They’re feeling left out,” you joked, feeling more movement. “They wanna dance, too.”

Ignis’ expression was difficult to read, still closed off. “I would be honored for another dance.”

You hated that you couldn’t read him, but ignored the thought. It was a miracle you were talking again at all. “Yeah, okay. Just let me make a trip to the whiz palace.” You let go of his hand, looking around to decide which exit was closest. Realizing what you’d said, you pointed at him. “Don’t tell Ravus I called it the whiz palace. He thinks I can’t go a day without saying something silly.”

A little smile crossed Ignis’ face, revealing just a hint of teeth. “I believe he’s correct.”

You waved him off for agreeing with your— your husband. Wow. You left Ignis with the promise to find him later, already planning a detour to find said husband after your visit to the bathroom. The dance with Ignis had been such a pleasant surprise, adding to your great mood, and you wanted to share that happiness with Ravus more than anyone.

* * *

When Ravus addressed a dignitary or his people, he spoke bluntly of loyalty and strategy, of the gods and commitment. You always found yourself struck by this. It was with an ease he didn’t give himself credit for having. He’d say he was only speaking truth, telling people what they needed to hear. It was the only way to inspire action. The security with which he held his beliefs was what made him such a strong speaker, you thought. He didn’t like public speaking, though. He said what was necessary, and that was most often all that needed to be done. 

So you were in mild awe when he drew attention to himself to present the fountain that had been made in your honor. It was, like everything the nobility considered absolutely important, the dumbest thing. You’d been joking when you’d asked for a fountain of your own in the gardens of Fenestala, and Ravus knew that. He looked at you as he spoke, finding you standing in the forefront of the small crowd. Yeah, he knew, and he’d had it built anyway.

When people clapped, a few of them glancing your way with praises, you gave a congenial wave, as expected, hefting one of your daughters with your other arm. Always demanding “Up, please” had you bending over several times a day even though it made your lower back ache. Your entire body ached, actually, because Ravus was a seductive bastard who convinced you that bringing yet another little human into the world was somehow a good idea.

This third one would be the last. You’d only agreed, at least with yourself, to have only _one_ in the first place. That plan had been ruined from the beginning. Looking at your daughter, you smoothed her hair back, though it kept sticking up at odd ends. She pouted when you stopped her from grabbing your tiara, her heel digging into your protruding stomach a little as she wiggled in your grasp. As people began to disperse, off to enjoy the gardens, you lowered her to the ground.

“Why don’t you go play with your cousin?” you suggested as Noctis approached. You’d seen him near Ravus’ fountain earlier, holding his small son over the water to show him the fish. You still wondered if he was a better parent than you, even after seeing him do that more than once just during Ravus’ speech alone.

The moment her feet touched the ground, she was off at warp speed, not giving a damn what you had to say. “Prommy!”

You rose with a small stretch, rubbing at your back. Your eyes followed her as Prompto knelt and caught the girl in his arms. “You need to step up your uncle game, Noct,” you said, nudging him with your elbow as he stopped next to you.

He scoffed a little, attempting to elbow you if not for the baby in his arms. “You won’t be saying that when he buys her a gun for her next birthday.”

“Better than that fucking slide whistle he gave her last year. We had to keep hiding it.” You watched Prompto throw her into the air, her laughter piercing the quiet mountain air in peals that warmed your heart. Your kids were alright, you supposed.

You peered around the gardens, wondering where the other one had run off to. The governess staffed by the castle had taken her to the bathroom during Ravus’ obligatory speech, and that had been at least a quarter of an hour prior. Before worry could take form, you found her near the newly constructed fountain, leaning over the edge, presumably with her arm submerged in the water. Wonderful.

On your way over to stop her, you slowed when Ignis appeared, bending to sit at the fountain near her. He said something that made her shoot up, dripping water everywhere as you finished approaching, catching the end of what Ignis was saying.

“So you see,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “It can be quite dangerous.”

Your daughter stared at him blankly. You couldn’t say you blamed her. It was so like him to speak to them like they were adults. She put her wet hand on Ignis’ knee, her silvery hair just as unkempt as her sister’s.

“Unk Iggy,” she said. “Up, please.”

You snorted, sitting next to him as he lifted her to sit on his knee, a soft frown on his face at how she rubbed her arm dry on his shirt. You smiled at her, then at Ignis, offering him so salvation from your kid. Both of them had obvious favorites. Where one beelined for Prompto, this one loved Ignis. You couldn’t blame her. He was pretty likable. Now that you were friends, finally without the resentment.

“Wanna throw in a coin and make a wish?” You pointed over your shoulder at the water.

Ignis stopped her hand as she pried at the golden chain of his pocket watch. “I learned long ago that wishes don’t come true.”

“Yikes.” You arched your brows, laughing a little. “You’ve gotten cynical with age, Iggy.”

He sent you a soft look over your daughter’s head. “Perhaps.”

You watched him bounce her a little on his knee, enjoying her presence even though he'd yet to master how to interact with children completely. You'd asked him more than once when he would have one of his own, suggesting he could buy or steal one. It was a much less touchy subject than his romantic life, though close enough that you tried not to push.

“So you know how I like to gossip…” You began, wanting to bring up something that had been eating at you for months now. It was the juiciest thing to have happened with your friends since Prompto had briefly gone awol on his wedding day. “I heard you’ve been seeing someone, but I noticed she didn’t come with you on this visit to Tenebrae.” You didn’t expect an answer, instead trying to decipher a response out of what little he showed you in his expression.

“She is merely a colleague.” He said that, but you saw the hints. The way his brow furrowed _just so_ as his jaw tightened for the barest of seconds told you that he was trying to give you the truth. But it couldn’t be entirely professional, whatever that relationship was. Otherwise, that slight blush on his face wouldn’t be there.

What you wanted to say fell away as your daughter scrambled out of Ignis’ hold with a squeal. “Papa!”

You watched her run the short distance to Ravus as he approached, your other spawn in one of his arms. He scooped her up easily, a smile growing on his face that only they could bring. You’d worried if he would be too stern on them, but he’d taken to parenthood with grace and kindness, a readiness that had tricked you into wanting another.

Standing up, you walked to him with a much calmer approach than your daughter had. Both girls touched at his hair and face, speaking at once in half mumbles that he nodded to, though you knew he hadn’t any better idea what they were saying than you did. He sent the smile to you, letting them jabber as you closed the distance.

“Your speech was dramatic,” you said, wanting to tease at how he was always so ardent when it came to admitting how he felt about you to the public. “You think they know how important this fountain is?”

“It isn’t the fountain that’s important. The point is to…” Ravus trailed off, staring at you as you began to dig hands into the pockets of his robes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said with a growing smile. “Just feeling you up while your hands are occupied.” Coming up with a small pouch of gil that almost never got used, you were pleased by the sound of the coins clinking together inside. You looked over your shoulder, ready to tell Ignis he should make a wish anyway, but he was gone. A quick glance around, and you found him talking to a few people just across the gardens.

Letting it go, you returned your attention to your little family, shaking the bag again. “Let's make a wish.”

The girls were immediately interested, wiggling until Ravus put them down. His smile had softened into his usual frown, his eyes curious as you handed each of them a coin.

“I’ve no use for wishes,” he said, taking the gil from you anyway.

“Because you already have everything you want?” you joked. Bending down to show them how to flip the coin into the water, you blushed at his immediate response.

“Precisely. My family, my kingdom, and you, most importantly.”

Peering up at him, you caught him looking the coin over. When he tossed it in with the flick of his thumb, your eyes followed the coin, watching it sink into the new fountain.

After giving the girls an example, you righted yourself and watched them struggle to copy you. “What did you wish for?”

“That you would search me for more money in our bedchambers this evening.”

You had to look at him, the response catching you off guard. He’d so often tell you _not in front of the children_ when you were overtly flirting. What a total hypocrite. He gave you a subtle once over, though you were stiff and a little heavy from pregnancy and hadn’t tried very hard today on your appearance.

You fought a laugh, shaking your head. “What a waste. I was gonna do that anyway.”

Your lingering shared look at one another was interrupted by a splash. You both looked down, finding your daughter with her arm once again submerged in the fountain’s clear, shallow water. The other followed suit a moment later, conspiratorial babble shared between them about saving the coins because _mama gave them to us._

While Ravus bent to kindly explain that it was alright, that dropping them into the water was the whole point, you pulled another gil from the little bag and bounced it on your open palm. Glancing toward where Ignis stood, now talking to Noctis and Luna, you let a thought come to you and flipped the coin into the fountain.

There. If it worked, that would be your good deed for this lifetime. You were married to an Oracle, so you felt like the odds were in your favor.

Ravus looked up at you, blinking in mild surprise. “Do you truly want to soil your fountain with money piling up at its bottom?”

You buried your fingers back into the bag, grabbing another. “Bend over this way. I’m gonna bounce this one off your butt.”

The girls, probably only hearing the last word, began to giggle. Ravus gave you a lovely frown but said nothing. You leaned over their little heads to kiss it off of him. This wasn’t just happiness; it was contentment.

It was everything.

* * *

The door to the private library creaked as it opened. It didn’t appear to have been visited recently, the young woman thought as she followed her friend inside and let the door close behind them. Light dust covered everything from the shelves to the large oil painting of the king and his wife that rested against one of the walls. 

She avoided the pillows strewn about the floor, making her way toward it with curiosity. “Your mother hasn’t aged a day from that painting.”

The prince followed her gaze, raising a silver brow. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen her up close in years.”

She frowned a little, pushing her glasses up her nose, more out of habit than anything. “Why, no, I haven’t, but I’ve seen her in passing once or twice during our stay.”

The young woman, due to her duties, had attended meetings with the Tenebraen king on behalf of her own prince all summer. She’d gone to the events the princesses held and spent as much down time with this prince —rather than the one she was sworn to— as she possibly could. But the duchess was eccentric and always keeping busy, elusive to most as her filmography grew larger every year. The only time she’d been granted audience with the duchess had been during the summers she would live with her father because they were old friends. Now she had every reason to be more friendly with the royal families, being a Crownsguard and a member of the prince’s retinue.

Thinking about her responsibilities, she looked over her shoulder at the door. “Should we head back? It took you longer to find this place than you promised.”

He waved her off. “My cousin will be alright. Let Amicitia keep him in line. I didn't steal the key to this place not to have a thorough snoop.”

She warmed at the thought that he wanted to spend more time alone with her. He always used last names for people, but never for her unless it was teasing or during an official event. She hid a smile by angling her gaze down at the book in his hands. “What have you found?”

He flipped through it idly. “A journal of my father’s. It’s rather bare.”

She laughed softly, stifling it with a hand. “I wish I could say the same of my father. I’ll have to show you some of his poetry when you’re next in Insomnia.”

Looking at the painting again, she didn’t think the king looked like someone who would keep personal accounts. Too stern and stoic. Shifting her gaze from the painting to the young man in front of her, it was striking how much he looked like a young King Ravus.

“Your father writing poetry?” He laughed at the thought, much freer in doing it than she’d been. It bounced off the marble walls and the old bookshelves.

When he smiled that way, he looked a little less like the king. Softer somehow. It made her heart race. Before she could think better of it, she slipped a hand into her pocket, her fingers playing with something round and warmed by her body heat.

Should she do it now? Could she do it at all?

He was a prince, and she was merely a countess. Illegitimate, at that. But he was easily the best friend she’d ever had. She’d been waiting all summer to finally be given the chance to be completely alone with him; now it was a matter of gathering the courage.

He looked up at her, the smile becoming smug. “Like what you see, Lady Scientia?” He lifted the book in a stretch, flexing a little in the way he so often did in attempt to make her laugh. “Just soak it in. I can’t blame you.”

She shoved him, a laugh falling out of her despite his stupidity. That was the push she needed. Taking the golden token from her pocket, she said, “Since you enjoy looking at yourself so much, I’ve something for you.” Holding it out to him, she swallowed a little and rose her chin. She _could_ do this; they were best friends, and she couldn’t explain how right this felt. Only that it did. “I hope you accept.”

He stared at it, lowering his arms before meeting her eyes in surprise. The journal clattered to the floor, flipping open to a messily written entry as it landed.

—

_His mother refused to help him, and though Ravus was long used to figuring things out on his own when it came to Oracle matters, he was growing long weary of things as they were. Understanding was just beyond his reach, had been for years. What little wisdom his mother did impart was only the mention of an impetus. One that Ravus didn’t believe existed for him._

_He said as much as he spoke to Aranea on the phone. The calls between them were rare, most of all for him to have reached out to her first. That was likely the reason she’d answered her phone at all, knowing he must’ve been under extreme stress. She’d been living in Insomnia for a year, and it had done wonders for their friendship, that distance._

_“Hold on,” she interrupted him halfway through a complaint. “My new tenant has a visitor who won’t leave.”_

_Ravus paused, staring ahead at the bookshelf. He hadn’t known she had a tenant. “Won’t leave?”_

_Aranea sighed, the sound of footfalls coming through the line with it. “Yeah. She’s always bringing someone different home. The kid’s a mess. Good taste in junk food, though.”_

_Ravus closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t fathom how this was at all important. Perhaps he should hang up. He heard Aranea suddenly swear, then speak to someone away from the phone._

_“Hey, talk to her while I show her guest out.”_

_“I’m hanging up.”_

_“She’s out of it, Ravus.” Aranea had always been quick to bite, the irritation in her voice keeping Ravus from following through. “Just keep her focused for a minute.”_

_The next thing he heard was a sniff, followed by a heavy breath. “Hello?”_

_Not compelled to respond, he listened for a few moments longer. Her breathing was uneven, another sniffle making him realize she’d been crying. It made him uncomfortable, even though she was on the other side of Eos, this stranger. He wasn’t obligated to comfort her._

_“Hello,” he said simply._

_Her breath picked up, and she cleared her throat. Right into the receiver. Ravus furrowed his brows in distaste. This was the worst. Of course this crying stranger wanted to have him deal with an auditory nightmare. This was why face to face communication ruled all else. It was the only way he could silently convey his derision._

_“Are you Aranea’s boyfriend?”_

_He scowled. “No.”_

_“Yeah… she doesn’t seem like the boyfriend type,” she said, a third sniffle out of her making Ravus impatient. “Me neither. Not really.”_

_It was out of him before he realized. “Yet she said you have many come home with you.”_

_The woman huffed on the line. “It’s different. I’m not tied down to anybody. And y’know what— mind your own fucking business. I’m a modern woman with needs.”_

_“And terrible decision making skills, apparently,” he sniped. “You’re sobbing as she throws out your most recent lover for you. Perhaps you should evaluate your life.”_

_She inhaled deeply, then coughed, making Ravus wince. He’d never had a worse phone call in all his life. It was a wonder he was still on it, though this absurd woman had grated on his nerves enough to warrant, at the very least, a tongue-lashing._

_“Who the hell are you to tell me that?” She had her mouth very close to the phone, if the static of her breath hitting the receiver was anything for Ravus to go by. He didn’t quite know what Aranea had meant when saying she was “out of it” but he’d come to the conclusion she must’ve been under the influence. Of what, he couldn’t begin to guess. “Huh?” She continued, trying to elicit some kind of rise out of him. “You’re just a voice, and you’re probably not even real. None of this is real.”_

_His ridicule fell silent, the comment he’d prepared to say falling away as he digested how quiet her voice became. Again, he felt uncomfortable, but unlike before, he felt compelled to speak. “Would you prefer it that way?”_

_She didn’t answer immediately, sniffing hard. “Sometimes. It would be… easier if none of this was real. Or if it just ended.”_

_“Do you have anyone?” He couldn’t believe he was asking this, carrying this conversation for so long. “Someone who isn’t a temporary lover. Someone you trust.”_

_“I guess… Prompto?” It was said in a way as if he should know who that person was._

_“Good.” He couldn’t stop himself from being curt. “Why don’t you, every instance you feel like taking a lover for the night, spend your time with this Prompto instead?” He waited for a reply, the silence stretching on longer than he was comfortable with. If he was going to spend time speaking, it needed to be acknowledged._

_“That’s a good idea,” she spoke up just as he was about to foolishly ask if she were still lucid. “Th-thank you. I… I’ll try to do that.”_

_He didn’t understand the soft, light feeling he received over hearing this. Had anyone ever thanked him before? “It’s important that you not waste more time with people who will hurt you.”_

_“But how will I know if they’ll hurt me?”_

_Ravus fought a sigh. “You won’t, but you’ll learn as you go. Life is progress, and it isn’t a straight or easy path. If you allow yourself the chance, you can endure and thrive.”_

_A quick inhale of breath and the nth sniffle coming through the line, and he realized she was trying not to cry again. Her voice came through slightly more wobbly than before. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”_

_This being the first time Ravus had spoken his mind on a touchy subject with a person, he was stricken by how hard her words hit him. Less than a minute later, Aranea was on the phone again, describing the altercation she’d had with the unwanted, lingering guest. It fell deaf on his ears, and he ended the call to scratch one last entry into the journal his mother had given him._

_He’d finally realized his purpose, and it wasn’t to keep his thoughts to himself or written between pages for no one to ever see. He thought of the woman’s wavering voice as he stood and shoved the journal up onto a high shelf. Already, it was fading and distorting in his memory, but he still felt that warmth, that light feeling from her appreciation._

_He’d told her she could persevere, and now, for the first time since taking on this role, he felt as if he could, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming along with me while I stretched the boundaries of what I'm comfortable writing. Ravus is a character that needs major love, and while my take on him isn't perfect, I've had _so much fun_ writing him.
> 
> Because life became hectic in the middle of writing this thing, I couldn't have gotten it finished without the support from my lovely discord friends, my dear sweet amazing Elathepenn, and all of you beautiful people who've left me encouragement in the comments. Thank you!!
> 
> I'll be back. (This is a promise, not a threat.) <3


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